### 256

The Quoku keep their distance, circling above your heads in lazy spirals. You crouch behind the cover of the large, overhanging rock, trying to guess their next move. 'Why don't they attack?' asks Shan. 'You must have given them a scare. Perhaps they've given up?'

'They're surprised, not scared,' you reply. 'They're planning their next move. While we're holed up in these rocks they lose the advantage of attacking from the air; we're too enclosed for them.'

Daylight has almost faded when the Quoku fly in a line towards you, each one coming as close as it dares before turning away. Soon they are swooping so close that you find it hard to resist the urge to duck.

A large rock crashes to the ground by your feet, followed by another. 'They've been ranging-in on us,' you say, 'judging the distance before hurling rocks at us.' Another rock thuds to the ground, dangerously close.

'Their aim is improving,' Shan remarks.

You cannot remain where you are any longer: you are sitting targets. You resolve to make a break for it, and begin to judge the frequency of the stone-throwing Quoku. 'Now--run!' you shout to Shan.

You burst out into the open to a cacophony of Quoku cries. In seconds, you realize your mistake: you have played into their hands. Poised on top of the overhanging rock is the largest Quoku you have ever seen. The huge monster rears up, its yellow eyes glaring with hatred, the poison glistening upon the warts of its slime-encrusted flesh. It leaps and swoops down on you.

If you wish to stand and fight the Quoku, as it hurtles upon you, turn to 281.

If you prefer to keep running, turn to 107.

Concept copyright © 1985 Joe Dever and Gary Chalk.
Text copyright © 1985 Ian Page.