Mud sucked at Jeff's heels as he climbed, and every stride up the slope sent a hot wire through his side.
It was twenty meters to the fig tree, and the Megalania covered ground the way a tide covers sand, low and patient, with its belly hissing over the ferns as it closed on her, fifteen meters, then twelve.
The woman in the undergrowth made her choice, so she rose to her knees and threw.
The branch tumbled end over end and bounced off the lizard's shoulder with a hollow tok, and it did nothing, since the animal did not even break stride. She scrambled backward on her elbows, then her hand slipped on the wet leaves, and she went down flat again with a small, choked sound.
"Stay down!" Jeff roared. "Don't run! It wants you to run!"
He had no arrows and his spear was chipped, so only one trick was left that could still hurt this thing, and it would cost him. He took it anyway.
