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last line of peaks blazed white with snow against the clear blue sky. Karl was struck by the color of these mountains, which grew richer and greener the farther they were from the desert.
    Leaving his water sack behind to shed weight, Karl soared out over the grassy slopes and felt his way among the rising currents of air. He rode them to the top of the first ridge and then turned south and flew along the crest looking for antelope.
    As Karl's hunter's eyes searched the landscape, he flew along faster than a hawk. All afternoon he moved up and down the ridge, but he could find no animals of any kind. At last he was compelled to land where he had left his water sack. He spent the final hour of daylight setting out rabbit snares with thin strips cut from his extra sheet of terry leather. Then he built a fire and went to sleep, weak and sick from lack of food.
    In the morning his snares were empty. He drank some water, then found a few berries and caught a small lizard the size of his finger which he ate raw. As he retrieved his snares he looked at the green mountains farther west. Surely among them he would find antelope.
    After climbing in the thermals over the foothills, Karl headed away from the desert. He was amazed that he hadn't seen any animals to hunt. These green slopes should have provided sufficient forage for many times the number of antelope that lived in Karanga's mountains, yet they were barren of game. It didn't make sense. A moment later he flew over a village nestled into the mountainside. Unlike the white, pueblo-like dwellings of Karanga, these houses were built of stone and had steep thatched roofs. Then he saw flocks of sheep spread out over the pastures and tiny figures driving them. Flying on, Karl saw flocks of sheep everywhere and spied dozens of other villages. Now he knew why he had not found antelope or any other animals in these densely inhabited mountains: the sheep were grazing on every available clump of grass.
    When he came to the snow-covered peaks, Karl turned back. With the total absence of game he would have to land and ask for food. It was that or starve. As he turned toward one of the villages, Karl noticed movement in a nearby field. He dropped down lower for a better look and then gasped with astonishment. Two riders, mounted on dread lizards, were chasing a man. The riders wore helmets and carried shields that glinted in the sun. Karl stared aghast as the lizards caught the fugitive at the end of the field, seizing him in their jaws and devouring him alive. Karl's anger rose with the dying mans cries. If only he had an extra spear, he would have loosed it at the lizard riders instantly.
    Sickened, Karl turned his wing into the first lift he found and sped back toward the desert. If being eaten alive by a dread lizard was what awaited him should he try to make contact with these people, he would not risk it. He would continue alone. However, the ache in his stomach reminded him that he must eat something substantial soon or else grow too weak even to fly.
    Soaring high over the first village, which provided him the closest retreat to the desert, Karl carefully noted the position of a flock near the top of the ridge. He landed farther along the same high ground and hid his kitewing. After dark, he would creep down to the pasture, and with all the stealth of a hunter he would take a young sheep. Then, while his strength held, he would run back to the ridge with it, get into his wing, and glide down the slope. There would be no thermals at night, but by gliding all the way to the bottom of the ridge he would gain several miles on any pursuers. And, with luck, he wouldn't be pursued.
    As twilight changed to darkness Karl knotted and unknotted the length of terry rope that he had planned to use to carry the sheep. He was weak, but he hoped he had strength enough to make the run from the pasture back to the ridge without stopping. He shuddered to think what would happen if he were caught, but