At once the Martian started forward again, more purposeful this time. Its broad wingfins carried it smoothly forward with continual undulations. It stopped less than half a meter from Jönis, extending its puckered trunk out like an offered hand. It gloop glooped softly at him, encouraging.
Jönis shuddered. He shifted the buckyblade with his fingers, wondering if the Martian might bleed to death with a simple puncture. Or did they have blubber? Could the blade reach deep enough to draw blood?
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