Francois Boucher The Setting of the Sun

Francois Boucher The Setting of the SunFrancois Boucher The Rest on the Flight into EgyptFrancois Boucher The Rape of Europa
know!..
"Can you use one?"
"I don't know!"
"I really hope you're a fast learner."
The lion emerged, slowly.
Desert lions, it its pelt. It dragged itself towards Brutha, back legs trailing uselessly.
"It's hurt," said Brutha.
"Oh, good. And there's plenty of eating on one of those," said Om. "A bit stringy, but-”
The lion collapsed, its toast-rack chest heaving. A spear was protruding from its flank. Flies, which can always find something to eat in any desert, flew up in a swarm.
Brutha put down the sword. Om stuck his head in his shell.has been said, are not like the lions of the veldt. They had been, when the great desert had been verdant woodland.[7] Then there had been time to lie around for most of the day, looking majestic, in between regular meals of goat.[8] But the woodland had become scrubland, the scrubland had become, well, poorer scrubland, and the goats and the people and, eventually, even the cities, went away.The lions stayed. There's always something to eat, if you're hungry enough. People still had to cross the desert. There were lizards. There were snakes. It wasn't much of an ecological niche, but the lions were hanging on to it like grim death, which was what happened to most people who met a desert lion.Someone had already met this one.Its mane was matted. Ancient scars criss-crossed