The little girl screamed and wrenched herself free and threw herself
straight on me, wrapping herself around my neck with the violence of a
storm wind. Her hair got in my mouth and her small hands gripped at my
back like a cat's flexed claws.
"Oh, help me," she gasped between sobs. "Don't let him get me, don't."
And even in that broken plea I took it in that the little ragamuffin did
not speak the jargon of that slum, but the pure speech of Shainsa.
What I did then was as automatic as if it had been Juli. I pulled the
kid loose, shoved her behind me, and scowled at the brute who lurched
toward us.
"Make yourself scarce," I advised. "We don't chase little girls where I
come from. Haul off, now."
The man reeled. I smelled the rankness of his rags as he thrust one
grimy paw at the girl. I never was the hero type, but I'd started
something which I had to carry through. I thrust myself between them and
put my hand on the skean again.
"You--you Dry-towner." The man set up a tipsy howl, and I sucked in my
breath.
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