Endworld #1: The Fox Run [antikvár]

The blasted dog pack still had his scent!Blade paused, angry, his gray eyes smoldering, his head cocked to one side, listening intently. How long had they been after him now? Sweat soaked his thick, curly hair and caked his green canvas pants and tattered fatigue shirt to his muscular body. At least a dozen were on his trail, their eager baying filling the morning air. They were close, too close, and narrowing the gap rapidly.Just what he needed!Blade ran, balancing the deer carcass on his broad right shoulder, hefting his bow in his left hand. The quiver of arrows on his back and the Bowie knife on each hip bounced as he moved. He'd never make it to the Home with the extra weight, and after the three days of tracking it took him to bag the buck, three days with little sleep and less food, he wasn't about to abandon the meat to the dogs.No way!Blade knew he was only two miles from the Home, two miles from shelter and comfort, two miles from help. But the others had no idea when he would return, they didn't know which direction he would be coming from, and they wouldn't be this far from the Home under normal circumstances anyway. In short, he couldn't rely on any aid from his friends.