"Jerry Oltion - A New Generation" - читать интересную книгу автора (Oltion Jerry)

for her and her siblings.

There would never be enough. She looked back at the leathery
oblong, partially buried in sand. None of the others had emerged yet, but
the skin was rippling as they squirmed about inside, attempting to burst free
of their individual compartments like their oldest sister had done. The
waves were drawing closer, but wouldn’t wash over the egg in time.

She had one chance for a life without constant battle against her own
kind. She cast a wary glance at the silvery thing, but it hadn’t moved.
Working up her courage, she raced back down the beach to the egg, put
her head and one shoulder against it, and shoved hard. It rocked backward
a bit. She shoved harder, lifting it over the lip of the hole it rested in, and
scuffled sand beneath it so it couldn’t fall back down while she backed up
for a better grip.

A long, toothy snout burst through the egg’s side and snapped at her
forepaw. She snapped back, biting off a chunk of its upper lip, and when it
jerked away, she used the momentum to rock the egg completely out of its
sand cradle.

Another push sent it rolling toward the water. She watched a wave
come in and just touch it, then she rushed forward and shoved it after the
receding surf. The holes she and her wounded sibling had made flopped
against the sand and slowed the egg’s progress, but she kept pushing with
all her might and sent it around another revolution, then another and
another.

The returning water lapped at her feet, and instinct sent her
scrambling back just in time to avoid the snapping mouths of the water’s
inhabitants. The egg jerked from side to side under their onslaught, then
ripped open and spilled all eleven of her siblings into the surf. Their frantic
thrashing churned the water into a froth, and two of them managed to kick
free of the melee long enough to swim a couple of body lengths toward
shore, but that was as far as they got. One disappeared so quickly it never
had a chance to scream; the other went slower, in thirds.

The wave receded. She was alone. All the berries were hers, and all
the crawling, hopping, and flying creatures she could catch were hers, too.
She turned to begin the climb.

“Hey, there’s one,” said a voice from down the beach.

****

She didn’t understand the words themselves, but the situation was
clear enough. She scrambled for cover, smashing through bush after bush
to make an obvious path, then abruptly changed course and slipped silently
beneath the branches toward the tumbled rock slope at the bottom of the
cliff.