"Ai!" cried another fellow, stung.
Then I heard others cry out in pain, and begin to strike about them.
"The clouds come closer!" cried a fellow.
There could now be no mistaking the steadily increasing volume of sound approaching from the west. It seemed to fill the delta, it is produced by the movement of wings, the intense, almost unimaginably rapid beating of millions upon millions of small wings.
"Needle flies are about!" cried a man. "Beware!"
"The clouds approach more closely!" cried a man.
"But what are the clouds?" cried a fellow.
"They are needle flies!" cried a man.
I heard shrieks of pain. I pulled my head back, even in the hood. I felt a small body strike against my face, even through the leather of the hood.
I recoiled, suddenly, uttering a small noise of pain, it stifled by the gag. I had been stung on the shoulder. I lowered my body, so that only my head, hooded, was raised above the water. I heard men leaping into the water. The buzzing was now deafening.
"My eyes!" screamed a man. "My eyes!"
The flies tend to be attracted to the eyes, as to moist, bright objects.
I felt the raft pitch in the water as men left it.
The sting of the sting fly is painful, extremely so, but it is usually not, unless inflicted in great numbers, dangerous. Several stings, however, and even a few, depending on the individual, can induce nausea. Men have died from the stings of the flies but usually in such cases they have been inflicted in great numbers. A common reaction to the venom of the fly incidentally is a painful swelling in the area of the sting. A few such stings about the face can render a person unrecognizable. The swelling subsides, usually, in a few Ahn.
I drew against the harness. From the feel of this I was sure the raft was empty.
"They darken the sun!" screamed a man.
I heard more fellows leaping into the water.
All about me was screaming, sounds of misery, the striking about, the slapping, the cursing of men.
I felt the small bodies pelting my hood.
Suddenly I drew the raft forward and to the right. I moved rapidly, frenziedly. I kept largely under water, raising my head in the hood from time to time. The raft, I hoped, if any noticed it, might be taken, at least for the most part, as being adrift, as perhaps abandoned, as moving much of its own accord, with the current. When I emerged to breathe I did not hear men calling after me, ordering me to halt. The buzzing was all about. I cursed, striking against a bar. I drew the raft over the bar, the water then only to my knees, and then plunged again into the deeper water. Four times in that brief time I had been stung. Too, I had felt many more insects on my body, alighting upon it, then clinging to it. But they did not sting me. I felt myself strike into some fellow, but then he was to one side. I do not even know if he knew who I was. When I raised my head for air, I felt the small bodies strike my hood. I received another sting, on the neck. When I submerged I think most, if not all, of the flies were washed from the hood. Some perhaps clung to it, unable to fly.
I did not plunge away indefinitely, but only for a few Ehn, trying even, as I could, to count paces, that I might have some idea of my distance from the column. I wished to go deeply enough into the rence to elude recapture, and not so deeply that I might lose contact with the column. I did not fear rencers during the time of the migration of the flies, which would presumably, in its several waves, take place intermittently, perhaps being completed in so short a time as a few Ahn, perhaps lasting as long as a few days.
I could feel rence all about me. I must then, to some extent, be shielded.
It was maddening to be hooded, to be unable to see. A fellow of Ar, amused, might be watching me now.
I felt something sinuous move against my neck. It was probably a marsh moccasin.
I did not want to be in the water at dusk, particularly isolated.
Too, I feared tharlarion, though now, in the heat of the day, many might be somnolent, in the water, mostly submerged, or on bars, at the water's edge, perhaps half hidden in the rence.
I clenched my fists in the manacles, bound at my waist.
There was suddenly a thrashing almost at my side, and I felt a large body move past me.
I wanted to scream in rage, in frustration. The stoppage of the gag, however, even had I chosen to scream, would have permitted me only the tiniest of noises, little more than the customary, tiny, helpless whimpers to which one who wears such a device is ordinarily limited.
I began to cut with the hood against the forward edge of the raft. This I did in the area of the gag strap, beneath the hood, on the right, that I might, as far as it might prove possible, protect my face. I could feel the flies about, swarming about, alighting on the hood. But I was muchly submerged. I tried to find a projection within the range of the harness. Then, my cheek burning, even beneath the gag strap, I began to saw the leather against the wood. It was difficult to apply continuous pressure in the same place, but I did this as best I could, compensating for the small movements and slippage of the hood. I could feel the friction, the burning, on my face. I tried to hook the closure of the hood over the projection and tear the hood off that way, upward, but this cut at the side of my neck, and, once, half choked me. Again, miserable, I moved the leather over and over again against the heavy projection. Often did the leather slip on the wet wood. Then, in a few Ehn, I could feel bark flaking from the wood. Again and again the leather slipped even more maddeningly over the smooth, wet surface. Then, after how long I do not know, I suddenly felt a tiny coolness at the side of my face. Too, within the hood there was then a tiny bit of light. I could see the inside of the hood to the right! I felt one of the sting flies crawl inside the hood, on my cheek. I did not move and it, seeking the light, crawled again to the outside. I rubbed and pushed the hood even more against the wood and then I heard the leather rip. The hood was now open on the right. The light seemed blinding. I glimpsed the projection and now, with deliberation, I hooked the hood, by means of the rent, over the projection and lowered my head. I felt even the raft tip in the water and then the hood was torn half away. Almost at the same time I saw a small tharlarion, no more than a foot in length, covered with sting flies, splash from the raft into the water. The logs, too, were dotted with sting flies. Others swarmed about. I reconnoitered swiftly. There was much rence about. There was no sign of the men of Ar. A bar was to one side. On it lay three adult tharlarion, watching me. They were covered with sting flies, which seemed no discomfort or concern to them. They watched me, unblinking, through their transparent, third eyelids. I moved the raft farther away from them, deeper into the rence. Had they approached me I would have tried to take refuge on the raft. Although such tharlarion can be extremely dangerous man is not their common prey. Also, used to taking prey in the water, or near the water, they are unlikely to clamber upon rafts, and such. Indeed rencers sometimes paddle about amidst them in their light rence craft. Similarly, they seldom ascend the rence islands. When they do even children drive them off with sticks. One that has taken human flesh, of course, for example, in attaching a rence craft, or in ascending a rence island, is particularly dangerous. Rencers usually attempt to destroy such an animal, as it represents a particular menace.