"E. C. Tubb - Dumarest - Child of Earth" - читать интересную книгу автора (Tubb E. C)

Dumarest was running even as it left the pouch, mouth open, legs pounding, breathing in short, shallow
gasps to oxygenate his lungs. To gain energy and speed so that, even as the half-stunned lizard dived for
cover, he was on it, holding it fast as his teeth dug into the scaled throat and released the blood of its life.

Blood he gulped until the creature was dead.

It was dark by the time he arrived at the place he thought of as home, the fire a warm beacon in the
gloom. The only welcome he would get but, with luck, he would be given a portion of his kill; the lizard
swinging over his shoulder. A hope that died as a man came to the mouth of the cave to snatch it and
send him reeling with a vicious, back-handed blow.

“Lazy young swine! What took you so long?” He didn't wait for an answer, standing tall and bloated his
scarred face twisted into a snarl. “You've been eating! It's on your mouth! Blood!”

“From the lizard! I had to—”

“Liar!” Again the thudding impact of the fist. A blow that sent his own blood to mingle with the dried
smears on his chin. “You useless bastard! I took you in, let my woman tend you, and all you do is lie! A
day's hunting for this!” He shook the dead reptile. “Well, it's too bad for you. Stay out there and starve!”

“I'll freeze!”

“So freeze. What's that to me? To hell with you!”

Another blow and he was gone, snug within the confines of the cave, warmed by the fire and the food
Dumarest had won. From where he crouched he could hear the mutter of voices, the harsh, cackling
laughter of the crone as she heard the news. A liquid gurgling as they gulped fermenting liquids. Later
came the sounds of animals in rut. Later still the sound of snores.

Dumarest rose from where he had crouched. Softly he moved towards the cave and pushed aside the
curtain of skins covering the opening. The fire burned low and he squatted beside it, warming his hands
and rubbing them over his limbs. From the pot standing beside the embers he found a bone and sucked
it, cracking it open to get at the marrow before throwing it on the coals. More followed until the pot was
empty and, drugged by the nourishment, his outraged physique demanding rest, he fell asleep.

And woke to a scream of rage.

It was day and in the light streaming through the curtain the crone stood glaring at him, her raddled face
convulsed with fury. A slut, her body sagging beneath the filthy clothes she wore, lice crawling in her
matted hair, sores on lips and chin. A fit mate for the man who woke and reared to his feet, wiping the
crust from his eyes.

“He's eaten it!” She pointed at the empty pot. “The stew's gone! The thieving young bastard's eaten it!”

“I'll teach him!” The man pushed her aside. He was naked aside from an apron around his loins. It fell as
he stripped off his belt. The leather whined as he swung it through the air. “Now you greedy young
swine! Stand still and be taught a lesson!”

Dumarest dodged as the belt swung towards him, feeling the wind of its passing through his torn