"Well I'm Flinter Cole, and I have a job to do on this planet. It's terribly important that I get started. Will you help me?"
"How can I, Mr. Cole? I'm nobody. I don't know anything." She moved away, and he followed, awkwardly.
"Girls know all sorts of things that would interest an ecologist," he protested. "Tell me all you know about stompers."
"Oh no! I mustn't talk about stompers."
"Well talk about nothing then, like girls do," he said impatiently. "What's the name of that moon?" He pointed3 overhead.
Tension left her and she smiled a little. "Morwenna," she said. "That one just setting into Lundy Forest is Annis. You can tell Annis by her bluish shadows that are never the same."
"Good girl! How about the other two, the ones that aren't up?"
"One's Cairdween and the other, the red one—oh, I daren't talk about moons either."
"Not even moons? Really, Miss Vignoli—"
"Let's not talk at all. I'll show you how to walk, you do look so funny all spraddled and scraping your feet. I was born off-planet and I had to learn it myself."
She showed him the light down-flex of the foot that threw the body more forward than up, and he learned to wait out the strange micropause before his weight settled on the other foot. With a little practice he got it, walking up and down the moonlit path beside her in an effortless toe dance. Then he learned to turn corners and to jump.
"Pia," he said once. "Pia. I like the sound, but it doesn't suit this rough planet."
"I was born on Tristan," she murmured. "Please don't ask—"
"I won't. But no reason why I can't talk. May I call you Pia?"
He described Belconti and the university, and his doctorate5, at stake in this field assignment. Suddenly she stopped short and pointed to where a red moon lifted above the dark cliff of the eastern forest.
"It's late," she said. "There comes Hoggy Darn. Good night, Mr. Cole."
She danced away faster than he could follow. He crawled back through his window in the reddish moonlight.
Next afternoon Cole faced Garth Bidgrass in the library. The old man sat with folded arms, craggy face impassive. Cole, standing6, leaned his weight on his hands and thrust his sharp face across the table. His freckles7 stood out against his angry pallor, and sunlight from the end window blazed in his red hair.
"Let me sum up," he said, thin-lipped. "For obscure reasons I must be essentially8 a prisoner. All right. You have no education here, no biologists of any kind. All right. Now here is what they expect of me on Belconti: to rough out the planetary ecosystem9, set up a functional10 profile series for the stomper2 and its interacting species, make energy flow charts and outline the problem. If my report is incorrect or incomplete, Belconti won't send the right task group of specialists. Then you spend your money for nothing and I lose my doctorate. I must have skilled helpers, a clerical staff, masses of data!"
"You've said all that before," Bidgrass said calmly. "I told you, I can provide none of that."
"Then it's hopeless! Why did you ever send for an ecologist?"
"I sent for help. Belconti sent the ecologist."
"Help me to help you, then. You must try to understand, Mr. Bidgrass, science can't operate in a vacuum. I can't work up a total planetary biology. I must start with that data."
"Do what you can for us," Bidgrass said. "They won't blame you on Belconti when they know and we won't blame you here if it doesn't help."
Cole sat down, shaking his head. "But Belconti won't count it as a field job, not in ecology. You will not understand my position. Let me put it this way: suppose someone gave you a hatchet11 and told you, only one man, to cut down Lundy Forest?"
"I could start," the old man said. His eyes blazed and he smiled grimly. "I'd leave my mark on one tree."
"All right," he said. "I'll do what I can. What do you think is wiping out the stompers?"
"I know what. A parasite14 bird that lays its eggs on stomper eggs. Its young hatch first and eat the big egg. The people call them piskies."
"I'll need to work out its life cycle, look for weak points and natural enemies. Who knows a lot about these piskies?"
"I know as much as anybody, and I've never seen a grown one. We believe they stay in the deep forest. But there are always three to each stomper egg and they're vicious. Go for a man's eyes or jugular15. Egg hunters kill dozens every day."
"I'll want dozens, alive if possible, and a lab. Can you do that much?"
"Yes. You can use Dr. Rudall's lab at the hospital." Bidgrass stood up and looked at his watch. "The egg harvest should start coming in soon down at the plant and there may be a dead pisky. Come along and see."
As Hawkins guided the car past a group of the giant field workers, Cole felt Bidgrass' eyes on him. He turned, and the old man said slowly, "Stick to piskies, Mr. Cole. We'll all be happier."
"Anything may be data to an ecologist, especially if he overlooks it," Cole murmured stubbornly.
Hawkins cackled something about "Hoggy Darn itha hoose" and speeded up.
In the cavernous, machinery-lined plant Cole met the manager. He was the same powerful, long-haired man Cole had seen in the garden. "Morgan," Bidgrass introduced him with the one name, adding, "He doesn't use Galactic English."
Morgan bent16 his head slightly, unsmiling, ignoring Cole's offered hand. His wide-set eyes were so lustrously17 black that they seemed to have no pupils, and under the hostile stare Cole flushed angrily. They walked through the plant, Morgan talking to Bidgrass in the vernacular18. His voice was deep and resonant19, organ-like.
Bidgrass explained to Cole how stomper egg was vac-frozen under biostat and sealed in plastic for export. He pointed out a piece of shell, half an inch thick and highly translucent20. From its radius21 of curvature Cole realized that stomper eggs were much larger than he had pictured them. Then someone shouted and Bidgrass said a flyer was coming in. They went out on the loading dock.
The flyer alongside carried six men forward of the cargo22 space and had four heavy blasters mounted almost like a warcraft. As the dock crew unloaded two eggs into dollies, other flyers were skittering in, further along the dock. Bidgrass pointed out to Cole on one huge four by three-foot egg the bases of broken parasite eggs cemented to its shell. Through a hole made by piskies, the ecologist noted23 that the substance of the large egg was a stiff gel. Morgan flashed a strong pocket lamp on the shell and growled24 something.
"There may be a pisky hiding inside," Bidgrass said. "You are lucky, Mr. Cole."
Morgan stepped inside and returned almost at once wearing goggles25 and heavy gloves, and carrying a small power saw. He used the light again, traced an eight-inch square with his finger, and sawed it out. The others, all but Cole, stood back. Morgan pulled away the piece and something black flew up, incredibly swift, with a shrill26, keening sound.
Cole looked after it and Morgan struck him heavily in the face, knocking him to hands and knees. Feet stamped and scraped around him and Cole saw his own blood dripping on the clock. He stood up dazed and angry.
"Morgan saved your eye," Bidgrass told him, "but the pisky took a nasty gouge27 at your cheekbone. I'll have Hawkins drive you to the hospital—you wanted to meet Dr. Rudall anyway."
Cole examined the crushed pisky on the way to the hospital. Big as his fist, with a tripartite beak28, it was no true bird. The wings were flaps of black skin that still wrinkled and folded flexibly with residual29 life. It had nine toes on each foot and seemed covered with fine scales.
Dr. Rudall treated Cole's cheek in a surprisingly large and well appointed dressing30 room. He was a gray, defeated-looking man and told Cole in an apologetic voice that he had taken medical training on Planet Tristan many years ago ... out of touch now. His small lab looked hopelessly archaic31, but he promised to biostat the dead pisky until Cole could get back to it.
Hawkins was not with the ground car. Cole drove back to the plant without him. He wanted another look at the mode of adhesion of pisky egg on stomper egg. He drove to the further end of the plant and mounted the dock from outside, to freeze in surprise. Twenty feet away, the dock crew was unloading a giant.
He was naked, strapped32 limply to a plank33, and his face was bloody34. Half his reddish hair and beard was singed35 away. Then a hand hit Cole's shoulder and spun36 him around. It was Morgan.
"Clear out of here, you!" the big man said in fluent, if plain, Galactic English. "Don't you ever come here without Garth Bidgrass brings you!" He seemed hardly to move his lips, but the voice rumbled37 like thunder.
"Well," thought Cole, driving back after Hawkins, "datums are data, if they bite off your head."
"For your own safety, Mr. Cole, you must not again leave the company of either Hawkins or Dr. Rudall when you are away from the house," Bidgrass told Cole the next morning. "The people have strange beliefs that would seem sheer nonsense to you, but their impulsive38 acts, if you provoke them, will be unpleasantly real."
"If I knew their beliefs I might know how to behave."
"It is your very presence that is provoking. If you were made of salt you would have to stay out of the rain. Here you are an outworlder and you must stay within certain limits. It's like that."
He worked all day at the hospital dissecting40 the pisky, but found no parasites41. He noted interesting points of anatomy42. The three-part beak of silicified horn was razor sharp and designed to exert a double shearing43 stress. The eye was triune and of fixed44 focus; the three eyeballs lay in a narrow isosceles triangle pattern, base down, behind a common triangular45 conjunctiva with incurved sides and narrow base. The wings were elastic46 and stiffened47 with a fan of nine multi-jointed bones that probably gave them grasping and manipulating power in the living organism. None of it suggested the limit factor he sought.
Dr. Rudall helped him make cultures in a sterile48 broth49 derived50 from the pisky's own tissues. In the evening a worker from the plant brought eleven dead piskies and Cole put them in biostat. He rode home with Hawkins to his solitary51 dinner feeling he had made a start.
Day followed day. Cole remained isolated52 in his wing, coming and going through his back door into the garden. He became used to the mute giant domestics who swept and cleaned. Now and then he exchanged a few words with the sad Mrs. Vignoli, Pia's mother, he learned, or with old Bidgrass, in chance meetings. He watched Pia through his windows sometimes and knew she fled when he came out. There was something incongruous in the timid wariness53 with which her plump figure and should-be-merry face confronted the world.
Once he caught her and held her wrist. "Why do you run away from me, Pia?"
She pulled away gently. "I'll get you in trouble, Mr. Cole. They don't trust me either. My father was a Tristanian."
"Who are they?"
"Just they. Morgan, all of them."
"If we're both outworld, we should stick together. I'm the loneliest man on this planet, Pia."
"I know the feeling," she said, looking down.
He patted her curls. "Let's be friends then, and you help me. Where do these giant people come from?"
Her head jerked up angrily. "That has nothing to do with your work! I'm inworld too, Mr. Cole. My mother is of the old stock."
Cole let her go in silence.
He began working evenings in the lab, losing himself in work. Few of the blue-clad men and women he encountered would look at him, but he sensed their hostile glances on the back of his neck. He felt islanded in a sea of dull hatred54. Only Dr. Rudall was vaguely55 friendly.
Cole found no parasites in hundreds of dissected56 piskies, but his cultures were frequently contaminated by a fungus57 that formed dark red, globular fruiting bodies. When he turned to cytology he found that what he had supposed to be an incredibly complex autonomic nervous system was instead a fungal mycelium, so fine as to be visible only in phase contrast. He experimented with staining techniques and verified it in a dozen specimens58, then danced the surprised Dr. Rudall around the lab.
"I've done it! One man against a planet!" he chortled. "We'll culture it, then work up mutant strains of increasing virulence—oh for a Belconti geno-mycologist now!"
"It's not pathogenic, I'm afraid," Dr. Rudall said. "I ... ah ... read once, that idea was tried centuries ago ... all the native fauna59 have fungal symbiotes ... protect them against all known pathogenic microbiota ... should have mentioned it, I suppose...."
"Yes, you should have told me! My God, there go half the weapons of applied60 ecology over the moon ... my time wasted ... why didn't you tell me?" The ecologist's sharp face flushed red as his hair with frustrated61 anger.
"You didn't ask ... hardly know what ecology means ... didn't realize it was important ..." the old doctor stammered62.
"Everything is important to an ecologist, especially what people won't tell him!" Cole stormed.
He tried to stamp out of the lab, and progressed in a ludicrous bouncing that enraged63 him even more. He shouted for Hawkins and went home early.
In his rooms he brooded on his wrongs for an hour, then went downstairs and thundered on the locked door into the main house, shouting Garth Bidgrass' name. The sounds beyond hushed. Then Garth Bidgrass opened the door, looking stern and angry.
"Come into the library, Mr. Cole," he said. "Try to control yourself."
In the library Cole poured out his story while Bidgrass, standing with right elbow resting atop a bookcase, listened gravely.
"You must understand," Cole finished, "to save the stompers we must cut down the piskies. Crudely put, the most common method is to find a disease or a parasite that affects them, and breed more potent64 strains of it. But that won't work on piskies, and I could have and should have known that to begin with."
"Then you must give up?"
"No! Something must prey65 on them or their eggs in their native habitat, a macrobiotic limit factor I can use. I must learn the adult pisky's diet; if its range is narrow enough that can be made a limit factor."
The old man frowned. "How would you learn all this?"
"Field study. I want at least twenty intelligent men and a permanent camp somewhere in Lundy Forest."
Bidgrass folded his arms and shook his head. "Can't spare the men. And it's too dangerous—stompers would attack you day and night. I've had over two hundred egg hunters killed this year, and they're trained men in teams."
"Let me go out with a team then, use my own two eyes."
"Men wouldn't have you. I told you, they're superstitious66 about outworlders."
"Then it's failure! Your money and my doctorate go down the drain."
"You're young, you'll get your doctorate another place," the old man said. "You've tried hard, and I'll tell Belconti that." His voice was placating67, but Cole thought he saw a wary68 glint in the hard gray eyes.
Cole shrugged69. "I suppose I'll settle in and wait for Gorbals. But I've had pleasanter vacations."
He turned his back and scanned the shelves ostentatiously for a book. Bidgrass left the room quietly.
It was a boring evening. Pia was not in the garden. Cole looked at the barrier and the incredible cliff of Lundy Forest. He would like to get into that forest, just once. Hundred and fifty days before Gorbals ... why had they ever sent for him? They seemed to be conspiring70 to cheat him of his doctorate. They had, too.... Finally he slept.
He woke to a distant siren wail71 and doors slamming and feet scraping in the main house. Dressing in haste, he noted a red glow in the sky to southward and heard a booming noise. In the hall outside his room he met Pia, face white and eyes enormous.
"Stomper attack!" she cried. "Come quickly, you must hide in the basement with us!"
He followed her into the main house and downstairs to where Mrs. Vignoli was herding72 a crowd of the giant domestics down a doored staircase. The giant women were tossing their heads nervously73. Several were naked and one was tearing off her dress. Cole drew back.
"I'm an ecologist, I want to see," he said. "Stompers are data."
He pushed her gently toward the women and walked out on the front veranda74. From southward came an incredibly rich and powerful chord of organ music, booming and swelling76, impossibly sustained. Old Hawkins danced in the driveway in grotesque77 pointed leaps, shrieking78 "Hoosa maida! Hoosa maida!" Overhead the moons Cairdween, Morwenna and Annis of the blue shadows were arranged in a perfect isosceles triangle, narrow base parallel to the horizon. It stirred something in Cole, but the swelling music unhinged his thought. With a twinge of panic he turned, to find Pia at his elbow.
"They're after me, after us," she cried against the music.
"I must see. You go find shelter, Pia."
"With you I feel less alone now," she said. "One can't really hide, anyway. Come to the watch tower and you'll see."
He followed her through the house and up two flights to the roof of the tower on the southeast corner. As they stepped into the night air, the great organ sound enwrapped them, and Cole saw the southern sky ablaze79, with flyers swooping80 and black motes81 hurtling through the glare. Interwoven pencils of ion-flame flickered82 in the verging83 darkness and the ripping sound of heavy blasters came faintly through the music.
A hundred-yard section of the barrier was down in flames, and the great, bobbing, leggy shapes of stompers came bounding through it while others glided84 down from the top. Flyers swarmed85 like angry bees around the top of the break, firing mounted blasters and tearing away great masses of wood. The powerful chord of music swelled86 unendurably in volume and exultant87 richness until Cole cried out and shook the girl.
"It's the stompers singing," she shouted back.
He shook his head. Bidgrass Station seethed89, lights everywhere, roads crowded with trucks. Around the base of the breakthrough a defense90 perimeter91 flared92 with the blue-violet of blasters and the angry red of flame guns. As Cole watched it was overrun and darkened in place after place, only to reform further out as reserves came into action. Expanding jerkily, pushed this way and that, the flaming periphery93 looked like a fire-membrane stressed past endurance by some savage94 contained thing. With a surge of emotion Cole realized it was men down there, with their guns and their puny95 muscles and their fragile lives against two-legged, boat-shaped monsters twenty feet high.
"Sheer power of biomass," he thought. "Even their shot-down bodies are missiles, to crush and break." A sudden eddy96 in the flaming defense line brought it to within half a mile of the house. Cole could see men die against the glare, in the great music.
The girl pressed close to him and whimpered, "Oh, start the fire mist! Morwenna pity them!" Cole put his arm tightly around her.
A truck convoy97 pulled up by the manor98 house and soldiers were everywhere, moving quickly and surely. A group hauled a squat99, vertical100 cylinder101 on wheels crashing through the ornamental102 shrubbery. Violet glowing metal vaning wound about it in a double helix.
"It's a Corbin powercaster," Pia shouted into Cole's ear. "It broadcasts power to the portable blasters so the men don't need to carry pack charges or lose time changing them."
Cole looked at the soldiers. The same big men he saw every day, the same closed and hostile faces, but now a wild and savage joy shone in them. This was their human meaning to themselves, their justification103. The red boundary roared down on them, they would be dying in a few minutes, but they were braced104 and fiercely ready.
The music swelled impossibly loud and Cole knew that he too was going to die with them, despised outworlder that he was. He hugged the girl fiercely and tried to kiss her.
"Let me in your world, Pia!" he cried.
She pulled away. "Look! The fire mist! Oh thank you, good Morwenna!"
He saw it, a rose pink paled by nearer flame, washing lazily against the black cliff edge of Lundy Forest. It grew, boiling up over the barrier in places, spilling through the gap, and the great, agonizing105 chord of music muted and dwindled106. The flame-perimeter began shrinking and still the fire mist grew, staining the night sky north and south beyond eye-reach. The song became a mournful wailing107 and the soldiers in the garden moved forward for the mopping up.
"Pia, I've got to go down there. I've got to see a stomper close up."
She was trembling and crying with reaction. "I think they'll be too busy to mind," she said. "But don't go too far in ... Flinter."
He ran down the stairs and through the unguarded gate toward the fought-over area. Wounded men were being helped or carried past him, but no one noticed him. He found a stomper, blaster-torn but not yet dead, and stopped to watch the four-foot tripart beak snap feebly and the dark wings writhe108 and clutch. The paired vertical eyelid109 folds rolled apart laterally110 to reveal three eyes under a single triangular conjunctiva, lambent in the flame-shot darkness. Soldiers passed unheeding while Cole stood and wondered. Then a hand jerked violently at his arm. It was Morgan.
Morgan wordlessly marched him off to a knot of men nearer the mopping up line and pushed him before Garth Bidgrass. Sweat dripped from flaring111 eyebrows113 down the grim old face, and over a blistered114 right cheek. A heavy blaster hung from the old man's body harness.
"I wish I could have saved men, Mr. Bidgrass. I wanted to help," Cole said.
"Another like this and you may have to," Bidgrass said, less sharply. "It was close work, lad."
"I can help Dr. Rudall. You must have many wounded."
"One favor," Cole said. "Will you have your men save half a dozen living stompers for me? I have another idea."
"Well, I don't know," Bidgrass said. "The men won't like it ... but a few days, maybe ... yes, I'll save you some."
"Thank you, sir." Cole turned away, catching117 a thick scowl118 from Morgan. Overhead the three moons were strung in a ragged119 line across the sky, and Hoggy Darn was rising.
Cole worked around the clock at the hospital, sterilizing120 instruments and helping121 Dr. Rudall with dressings122. He was surprised to see other doctors, many nurses and numerous biofield projectors123 as modern as any on Belconti. Some of the wounded were women. All of them, wounded and unwounded, seemed in a shared mood of exaltation. He caught glimpses of Pia, working too. She seemed less poised for flight, tired but happy, and she smiled at him.
After three days Cole saw his stompers in a stone-floored pen at the slaughter124 house. Earth breed cattle lowed in adjacent pens. Four stompers still lived, their bodies blaster torn and their legs crudely hamstrung so they could not stand. They lay with heads together and the sun glinted on the blue-black, iridescent125 scales covering the domed126 heads and long necks.
Three shock-headed butchers stood by, assigned to help him. Their distaste for Cole and the job was so evident that he hurried through the gross dissection127 of the two dead stompers at one end of the same pen. After an hour he thought to ask, as best he could, whether the living stompers were being given food and water. When one man understood, black hatred crossed his face and he spat128 on Cole's shoe. The ecologist flushed, then shrugged and got on with the job.
It brought him jarring surprises culminating in a tentative conclusion late on the second day. Then the situation began to fall apart. Working alone for the moment, Cole opened the stomach of the second stomper and found in it half-digested parts of a human body. Skull129 and humerus size told him it was one of the giants.
First pulling a flap of mesentery over the stomach incision130, Cole went into the office and phoned Dr. Rudall to come at once. Coming out, he heard angry shouts and saw two of his helpers running to join the third, who stood pointing into the carcass. Then all three seized axes, ran across the pen and began hacking132 at the necks of the living stompers.
The great creatures boomed and writhed133, clacking their beaks134 and half rising on their wings, unable to defend themselves. The butchers howled curses, and the stompers broke into a mournful wailing harmonized with flesh-creeping subsonics. Cole shouted and pleaded, finally wrested135 an axe131 from one and mounted guard over the last living stomper. He stood embattled, facing a growing crowd of butchers from the plant, when Dr. Rudall arrived.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Cole, they will kill it in spite of you."
"But Garth Bidgrass ordered—"
"In spite of him. There are factors you don't understand, Mr. Cole. You are yourself in great danger." The old doctor's hands trembled.
Cole thought rapidly. "All right will they wait a day? I want tissue explants for a reason I'll explain later. If you'll help me work up the nutrient137 tonight—"
"Our pisky nutrient will work. We can take your samples within the hour. Let me call the hospital."
He spoke138 rapidly to the glowering139 butchers in the vernacular, then hurried into the building. An hour later the stomper was dead, and Hawkins drove Cole and the doctor back to their lab with the explants.
"I've almost got it," Cole said happily. "Several weeks and two more bits of information and I'll tell you. In spite of all odds140, one man against a planet—this will found my professional reputation back on Belconti."
Once again Cole faced Garth Bidgrass across the round table in the library. This time he felt vastly different.
"The piskies are really baby stompers," he said, watching the craggy old face for its reaction. It did not change.
"I suspected it when I saw how the smaller eggs fused with the large egg, with continuous laminae," Cole went on. "There was the morphological resemblance, too. But when I dissected two mature stompers I found immature141 eggs. Even before entry into the oviduct what you call pisky eggs are filamented142 to the main body of cytoplasm."
Disappointingly, Bidgrass did not marvel144. He squinted145 and cocked his head. Finally he said, "Do you mean the piskies lay their eggs internally in the stompers?"
"Impossible! I made a karyotype analysis of pisky and stomper tissue and they are identical, I tell you. My working hypothesis for now is that pisky eggs are fertilized146 polar bodies. It's not unknown. But that the main body should be sterile and serve as an external food source—that's new, I'm sure. That will get my name in the journals all through Carina sector147."
He could not help smiling happily. Bidgrass bit his lower lip and stared keenly, not speaking. Cole became nettled148.
"I hope you see the logic," he said. "What threatens your stompers is harvest pressure from your own egg hunters. Stop it for a few decades, or set aside breeding areas, and you can have a whole planetful again."
The old man scowled149 and stood up. "We'll not stop," he said gruffly. "There are still plenty of stompers. Remember last month." He walked to the end window and back, then sat down again still looking grim.
"Don't be too sure," Cole objected. "I haven't finished my report. I made a Harvey analysis on the tissues of one stomper. It involves culturing clones, measuring growth rates and zones of migration150 and working out a complex set of ratios—I won't go into details. But when I fitted my figures into Harvey's formula it indicated unmistakably that the stompers have a critical biomass."
"What does that mean?"
"Think of a species as one great animal that never dies, of which each individual is only a part. Can you do that?"
"Yes!" the old man exploded, sitting bolt upright.
"Well, the weight of a cross-section of the greater animal at any moment in time is its biomass. Many species have a point or value of critical biomass such that, if it falls below that point, the greater animal dies. The species loses its will to live, decays, drills into extinction151 in spite of all efforts to save it. The stomper is such a species, no doubt whatever. Do you see how the slaughter a month ago may already have extinguished them as a species?"
Bidgrass nodded, smiling grimly. His eyes held a curious light.
"Tell me, Mr. Cole, your Harvey formula—do human beings have a critical biomass?"
"Yes, biologically," Cole said, surprised. "But in our case a varying part of the greater animal is carried in our culture, our symbol system, and is not directly dependent on biomass. A mathematical anthropologist152 could tell you more than I can."
Bidgrass placed his hands palm down on the table and leaned back in sudden resolution.
"Mr. Cole, you force me to tell you something I had been minded to hold back. I already know a good part of what you have just told me. I wish to exterminate153 the stompers and I will do so. But I meant for you to go back to Belconti thinking it was the piskies."
Cole propped154 his chin on folded hands and raised his eyebrows. "I half suspected that. But I fooled you, didn't I?"
"Yes, and I admire you for it. Now let me tell you more. Stomper egg brings a very high price and I have kept it higher by storing large reserves. When it is known the stomper is extinct, the rarity value of my reserve will be enormous. It will mean an end of this harsh life for me and for my grandniece after me."
"I want the pisky theory and the news of stomper extinction to be released through Belconti University. The news will spread faster and be more readily believed and I will avoid a certain moral stigma—"
"And now I've crossed you up!"
"You can still do it. I can ease your conscience with a settlement of—say—five thousand solars a year for life."
Cole leaped up and leaned across the table.
"No!" he snapped. "Old man, you don't know how ecologists feel about the greed-murder of species. What I will do is work through Belconti on your government at Car Truro, warn it that you are about to destroy an important planetary resource."
"Not so fast, young fellow. I have copies of your early notes in which you call the piskies the critical limit factor in stomper extinction. Almost three hundred people were killed in that stomper attack, and you could easily have been one of them. If you had, I would naturally have reported it via the next Gorbals to Belconti and sent along your notes to date—do you follow me?"
"Yes. A threat."
"A counter-threat. Think it over for a few days, Mr. Cole."
Cole sat glumly in his room waiting for his dinner and wondering if it would be poisoned. When old Hawkins tapped, he pulled open the door, only to find Pia instead with a service for two. She was rosy157 and smiling in a low-cut, off-shoulder brown dress he had not seen before.
"May I eat dinner with you tonight, Flinter?" she asked.
"Please do," he said, startled. "Am I people now, or something?"
"Uncle Garth says now that you know—" She broke off, blushing still more.
"I don't like what I know," he said somberly, "but it's not you, Pia. Here, let me."
He pulled the cart into the room and helped her set the things on his table. Pia was lovely, he decided158, wanting to caress159 the smooth roundness of her shoulders and dimpled arms. When she sat across the small table from him he could not help responding to the swell75 of her round breasts barely below the neckline. But her manner seemed forced and she looked more frightened than ever.
"You look like a little rabbit that knows it's strayed too far from the woods, Pia. What are you always afraid of?"
Her smile faded. "Not because I'm too far from the woods," she said. "What's a rabbit? But let's not talk about fear."
They talked of food and weather through a more than usually elaborate dinner. There was a bottle of Tristanian kresch to follow it. Cole splashed the blue wine into the two crystal goblets160, gave her one and held up his own.
"Here's to the richest little girl on Tristan someday," he said, half mockingly.
Tears sprang to her eyes. "I don't want to be rich. I just want a home away from New Cornwall, just anywhere. I was born on Tristan. Oh Flinter, what you must think—" She began crying in earnest.
He patted her shoulder. "Forgive me for a fool, Pia. Tell me about Tristan. I had only one day there, waiting for Gorbals' tender."
She spoke of her childhood on Tristan, and the tension eased in both. Finally she proposed a picnic for the next day, the two of them to take a sports flyer into the forest top. He agreed with pleasure and squeezed her hand in saying good night.
She squeezed back a little. But she still looked frightened.
Next day Pia wore a brief yellow playsuit, and Cole could not keep his eyes off her. When he was loading the picnic hamper161 into the small flyer before the main hangar, she suddenly pressed close to him. He followed her wide-eyed gaze over his right shoulder and saw Morgan bulking darkly ten feet away.
Morgan rumbled in vernacular and walked on. His lips did not move.
"You're afraid of Morgan," Cole said when he had the flyer aloft and heading east.
Cole looked back at the bulk of Lundy Peninsula, swelling lost into blue-green distance from the narrow isthmus163. The straight slash164 of Bidgrass Station from sea to sea looked puny beside the mighty165 forest towering on either side. Then Pia had his arm and wanted him to land.
He grounded on a pinkish-green mass of lichen166 several acres in area. Pia assured him it would support the flyer, reminding him of the planet's low gravity.
The resilient surface gave off a fragrance167 as they walked about on it. In a sea all around their island, branches of the great forest trees thrust up, leafy and flowering and bedecked with a profusion168 of epiphytal plants in many shapes and colors. Bright-hued true birds darted169 from shadow into sunlight and back again, twittering and crying.
"It's beautiful," he said. And so was Pia, he thought, watching her on tiptoe reaching to a great white flower. The attractive firmness of her skin, the roundness and dimpling, ripeness, that was the word he wanted. And her eyes.
"Pia, you're not frightened any more!"
It was true. The long-lashed brown eyes were merry as nature meant them to be.
"It's peaceful and safe," she said. "When I come to the forest top I never want to go back to Bidgrass Station."
"Too bad we must, and let's pretend we don't," he said, pointing to a cluster of red-gold fruits. "Are those good to eat?"
"Too good. That's the trouble with New Cornwall."
"What do you mean?"
"Race you back to the flyer," she cried, and danced away, bare limbs twinkling in the sunlight. He floundered after.
The lunch was good and she had brought along the rest of the bottle of kresch. They sipped170 it seated beside the flyer while she tried to teach him New Cornish folk songs. Her small, clear singing blended with that of the birds around them.
"I catch parts of it," he said. "As an undergraduate a few years ago I studied the pre-space poets. I can read Old English, but it is strange to my ear."
"I could teach you."
"I love one wry-witted ancient named Robert Graves. How does it go: If strange things happen where she is—no, I can't recall it now."
"I could write the songs out for you."
"The beauty is in you and your voice. Just sing."
She sang, something about a king with light streaming from his hair, coming naked out of the forest to bring love into his kingdom. Small white clouds drifted in the blue sky, and blue Annis slept just above the rustling171 branches that guarded the secret of their island. He listened and watched her.
She was softly rounded as the clouds, and her clustered brown curls made an island of the vivid face expressing the song she sang so bird-like and naturally. She was vital, compact, self closed, perfect—like one of the great flowers nodding in the breeze along the island shore—and his heart yearned172 across to her.
"Pia," he said, breaking into the song, "do you really want to get away from New Cornwall?"
She nodded, eyes suddenly wide, lips still parted.
"Come with me to Belconti then. Right now. We'll cross to Car Truro and wait there for Gorbals."
The light dimmed in her face. "Why Car Truro?"
"Pia, it's hard to tell you. I'm afraid of your great-uncle.... I want to contact the planetary government."
"It's no good at Car Truro, Flinter. Can't you just come back to Bidgrass Station and ... and ... do what Uncle Garth wants?"
He could barely hear the last. The fear was back in her eyes.
"Do you know what he wants?"
Cole stood up. "So that's the reason—well, I'll not do it, do you hear? Garth Bidgrass is an evil, greedy old man and maybe it runs in the blood."
She jumped up, eyes more angry now than fearful. "He is not! He's trying to save you! He's good and noble and ... and great! If you only knew the truth—Morwenna forgive me!" She clapped her hand to her mouth.
"Tell me the truth then, since I'm still being made a Belconti fool of. What is the truth?"
"I've said too much. Now I'll have to tell Uncle Garth—" She began crying.
"It's true I was supposed to make you love me and I tried and I can't because ... because ..." she ended in incoherent sobbing175.
Cole stroked her hair and comforted her. "I've been hasty again," he apologized. "I'm still running in the dark, and that makes for stumbles. Let's go back, and I'll talk to your great-uncle again."
In the morning Garth Bidgrass, looking tired and stern, invited Cole to breakfast with the family. Cole had never been in the large, wood-panelled room overlooking the south garden through broad windows. Pia was subdued176, Mrs. Vignoli strangely cheerful. The meal, served by a giant maid, was the customary plain porridge and fried meat.
The women left when the maid cleared the table. Bidgrass poured more coffee, then leaned back and looked across at Cole.
"Mr. Cole, I did you a wrong in having you sent here. I kept you in the dark for your own protection. Can you believe that?"
"I can believe that you believe it."
"You came too soon. You were too curious, too smart. I have had to compound that wrong with others to Pia and my own good name."
Cole smiled. "I know I'm curious. But why can't I know—"
"You can, lad. You've nosed through to it and I'll tell you if you insist. But it will endanger you even more and I wish you would forego it."
Cole shook his head. "I'm an ecologist. If I have the big picture, maybe I can help."
"I thought you'd say that. Well, history first, and settle yourself because it is a big picture and not a pretty one. This planet was settled directly from Earth in the year 145 After Space, almost eight hundred years ago. It seemed ideal—native protein was actually superior to Earth protein in human metabolism178. Easy climate, geophysically stable, no diseases—but planetology was not much of a science in those days.
"The colony won political independence in 202 A.S. It had a thriving trade in luxury foods, mostly stomper egg concentrates—freight was dear then. Settlements radiated out from Car Truro across the plains. Food was to be had for the taking in the mild climate and it was a kind of paradise. Paradise!"
The old man's voice rang hard on the last word and Cole stiffened. Bidgrass went on.
"Early in the third century our social scientists began to worry about the unnatural179 way the culture graded from the complexity180 of Car Truro to a simple pattern of mud huts and food gathering181 along the frontiers. Children of successive generations were taller than their parents and much less willing or able to use symbols. By the time a minority decided the trend should be reversed, the majority of the people could not be roused to see a danger."
"It was all the native foods they ate, but mainly stomper egg. There are more powerful and quicker-acting substances in the forest fungi183, but then the population was all in the eastern grasslands184, where the stompers ranged."
"I read they were a plains animal."
"Yes, and harmless too, except for their eggs. Well, the minority set up a dictatorship and began cultivating Earth plants and animals. They passed laws limiting the mechanical simplicity185 of households and regulating diets. They took children from subnormal parents and educated and fed them in camps. But the normals were too few and the trend continued.
"Shortly after mid-century the population reached the edge of the southern forest, and there many were completely wild. They drifted along the forest edge naked, without tools or fire or language or even family groupings. Their average stature186 was nearly eight feet. The normals knew they were losing. Can you imagine how they felt, lad?"
Cole relaxed a little. "Ah ... yes, I can ... I imagine the fight was inside them, too."
Bidgrass nodded. "Yes, they were all tainted187. But they fought. They asked Earth for help and learned that Earth regarded them as tyrants188 oppressing a simple, natural folk. The economy broke down and more had to be imported. The only way to pay was in stomper egg exports. In spite of that, in about the year 300, they decided to restrict the stompers to the western part of the grasslands, thousands of miles beyond the human range.
"The egg hunters began killing189 piskies and grown stompers. They killed off the great, stupid herds190 of darv cattle on which the stompers fed. The stompers that survived became wary and hostile, good at hiding and fierce to attack. But killing off the eastern darv herds broke them and in a generation they vanished from the eastern plains. Things seemed to improve and they thought the tide was turned. Then, in the year 374, came what our bards191 now call the Black Learning."
"Bards?" Cole said. He drained his coffee cup.
"Morgan could sing you this history to shiver the flesh on your bones," the old man said, pouring more coffee. "What I am telling you is nowhere written down, but it is engraved192 in thousands of hearts. Well, to go on.
"We knew some of the stompers had gone into the southern forest—you see, they have to incubate their eggs in direct sunlight and we kept finding them along the forest edge. But we had assumed they were eating the snakes and slugs and fungi native to the forest floor. Now we learned that a large population of wild humans had grown up unknown to us in the deep forest—and the stompers were eating them.
"You have seen our forests from a distance, lad. Do you realize how impossible it is to patrol them? We hadn't the men, money or machines for it. We appealed, and learned we would get no help from any planet in Carina sector except for pay. But the egg market fell off, and our income with it. Ships did come, however, small ones in stealth, to ground along the forest edge and capture the young women of the wild people."
Cole struck the table. "How rotten!..." His voice failed.
Bidgrass nodded. "We call that the Lesser194 Shame. The young women were without personality or language, yet tractable196 and responsive to affection. They were flawless in health and physique, and eight feet tall. They could be sold for fantastic prices on loosely organized frontier planets and yes, even to Earth, as we learned. Something dark in a man responds to that combination. You feel it as I speak—no, don't protest, I know. We had long had that trouble among our own people."
"Did my own people of Belconti—" Again Cole's voice failed. He brushed back his red hair angrily.
"Belconti was new then, still a colony. Well, that was the help we got. We hadn't the power to fight stompers, let alone slave raiders. But the Galactic Patrol was just getting organized and the sector admiral agreed to keep a ship in orbit blockading us. We broke off all contact except with Tristan, and the Patrol let only one freight line come through to handle our off-planet trade. It was then we began to hate the other planets. We call it the Turning Away.
"Now we are forgotten, almost a myth. The Patrol ship has been gone since two hundred years ago. But we remember."
"I wish I'd known this," Cole said. "Mr. Bidgrass, things are greatly changed in Carina sector—"
Bidgrass held up his hand. "I know, lad. That's why you're here, and I'll come to it. But let me go on. Early in the fifth century we decided to exterminate the stompers altogether and in two decades killed off all the darv cattle. But the stompers went into the forests in the south and west and from there came out to raid the plains. Not to kill, but to carry off normal and semi-wild people into the forest for breeding stock. A stomper's wing is more flexible than a hand. One of them can carry half a dozen men and women and run a thousand miles in a day. Some fungi in the forest can dull a man in an hour and take his mind in a week. Few who were carried in ever came out again.
"This went on, lad, for centuries. From our fortified197 towns and hunting camps we ranged along the forest edge like wolves. The stompers must lay their eggs in direct sunlight. That forced them out where we could get at them, into clearings and uplands and along the forest edge. We killed all we could.
"We found rhythms in their life pattern keyed to our four moons. When the three lady moons form a tall triangle, the stompers group in the open to mill and dance and sing. About every three months this happens over several days and in old times it was the peak raid season. It was also our chance to kill. The people call the configuration198 the House of the Maidens199."
Cole nodded vigorously. "I remember that. Strange how lunar periodicity is bionative in every planet having a moon."
"It saved us here, praise Morwenna, but once almost destroyed us. There is a longer, sixty-two year cycle called the Nights of Hoggy Darn. Then the red moon passes through the House of the Maidens and the stompers go completely berserk. The first one after the war was joined fully201, in 434, caught us unprepared and cost us more than three-fourths of our normal population in the week that we remember as the Great Taking. We were thrown back into Car Truro for decades and the stompers came back on the plains. They snatched people from the streets of Car Truro itself. That we call the Dark Time."
The old man's craggy face shadowed with sorrow and he sighed, leaning back. Cole opened his mouth but Bidgrass leaned forward again, new, fierce energy in his voice.
"We rallied and came back. We fought from the air and killed them in large numbers when we caught them in the open on Maiden200 nights. We drove them back off the plains and harried202 them along the forest edges and in the upland clearings where they came to lay eggs. We gathered all the eggs we could find. They defended their eggs and caused us steady losses. But we fought.
"We built our strategy on the Maidens and in time we drove the enemy out of the southern forest and into the west. Then we crowded him into Lundy Peninsula, made it a sanctuary203 for a hundred years to draw him in. When I was your age we fought out the last Nights of Hoggy Darn a few miles east of here. Ten years later we finished Bidgrass Station and the barrier and the continent was free of stompers."
Cole shifted his chair to get the sun off his neck. "I hardly know what to say," he began, but Bidgrass raised his hand.
"I've more to tell you, that you must know. By the late seventh century things were normal around Car Truro as regards regression. We began a pilot program of reclamation204. The egg hunters captured wild people along the forest edge, still do. But some are beyond saving, and those they kill. We have to pen them like animals at first, but they can be trained to work in the fields, and for a long time now we have had few machines except what we need for war. Their children, on an Earth diet, come back toward normal in size and intelligence. The fourth and fifth generations are normal enough to join in the war. But war has always come first and we have never been able to spare many normals for reclamation work.
"Even so, ex-wilds make up more than half our normal population now. That's about forty thousand; there are nearly a hundred thousand on the reclamation ladder, mostly around Car Truro. The ex-wilds have a queer, poetic205 strain, and mainly through them we've developed a sort of religion along the way. It helps the subnormals who are so powerfully drawn206 to run back to the forests. It's a strange mixture of poetry and prophecy, but it's breath of life to the ex-wilds. I guess I pretty well believe it myself and even you believe some of it."
"Yes, your notion of the greater animal, critical biomass, that you spoke of. We speak of Grandfather Stomper and we are trying to kill him. He is trying to enslave Grandfather Man. The whole purpose and meaning of human life, to an ex-wild, is to kill Grandfather Stomper and then to reclaim208 Grandfather Man from the forest. You would have to hear Morgan sing it to appreciate how deeply they feel that, lad."
"I feel it, a little. I understand Morgan now, I think. He's an ex-wild, isn't he?"
"Yes, and our master bard. In some ways he has more power than I."
Cole got up. "Mind if I pull a curtain? That sun is hot."
"No, go ahead. Our coffee is cold," the old man said, rising too. "I'll ask for a fresh pot."
Seated again in the shaded room, Bidgrass resumed, "There's not much more. After the barrier was up it seemed as if Grandfather Stomper knew his time was running out. Don't laugh now. Individual stompers don't have intelligence, symbol-using, that is, as far as we know. But they changed from plains to forest. They learned to practise a gruesome kind of animal husbandry—oh, I could tell you things. Something had to figure it out."
"I'm not laughing," Cole said. "You're talking sound ecology. Go on."
"Well, they began laying eggs right along the barrier and didn't try to defend them. We picked up hundreds, even thousands, every day. The people said Grandfather Stomper was trying to make peace, to pay rent on Lundy Forest. And maybe he was.
"But we spat in his face. We gathered his tribute and still took all the eggs we could find in the inland clearings. We killed every stomper we saw. Then, for the first time I think, Grandfather Stomper knew it was war to the death. He began to fight as never before. Where once a stomper would carry a captured egg hunter a hundred miles into the forest and turn him loose, now it killed out of hand. They began making mass attacks on the station and they didn't come to capture, they came to kill. So it has gone for forty years now."
The old man's voice changed, less fierce, more solemn. He sat up straight.
"Lundy Forest is near eight hundred thousand square miles. No one knows how many millions of wild humans are in it or how many scores of thousands of stompers. But this I knew long before you came to tell me about critical biomass: Grandfather Stomper is very near to death. He ruled this planet for a million years and he fought me for near a thousand, but his time is come.
"Don't laugh, lad, at what I am about to say now. Mass belief, blind faith over centuries of people like our ex-wilds and semi-wilds, can do strange things. To them and even to myself I represent Grandfather Man, and from them a power comes into me that is more than myself. I know in a direct way that in the Nights of Hoggy Darn to come I will at long last kill Grandfather Stomper and the war will be won. That time is only eight weeks away."
"Then I'll still be here. Grand—Mr. Bidgrass, I want to fight with you."
"You may and welcome, lad. Must, even, to redeem209 yourself. Because, for what you know now, your life is forfeit210 if the ex-wilds suspect."
"Why so? Are you not proud—" Cole half stood and Bidgrass waved him down.
"Consider, lad. For centuries across the inhabited planets people of wealth and influence have been eating stomper egg, serving it at state banquets. But now you know it is human flesh at one remove. How will they feel toward us when they learn that?"
"How should they feel? Man has to be consumed at some trophic level. His substance is as much in the biogeochemical cycles as that of a pig or a chicken. I suppose we do feel he should cap the end of a food chain and not short-cycle through himself, but I'm damned if I'm horrified—"
"Any non-ecologist would be. You know that."
The giant maid came in with a pot of coffee and clean cups. Bidgrass poured and both men sipped in silence. Then Bidgrass said slowly, "Do you know what the people here call outworlders? Cannibals! For centuries we have had the feeling that we have been selling our own flesh to the outworlds in exchange for the weapons to free Grandfather Man."
He stood up, towering over Cole, and his voice deepened.
"It has left bone-deep marks: of guilt211, for making the outworlders unknowing cannibals; of hatred, because we feel the outworlds left us no choice. And shame, lad, deep, deep shame, more than a man can bear, to have been degraded to food animals here in our forests and across the opulent tables of the other planets. Morgan is only second-generation normal—his father was killed beside me, last Hoggy Darn. If Morgan knew you had learned our secret he would kill you out of hand. I could not stop him. Do you understand now why we didn't want you until next Gorbals? Do you see into the hell you have been skating over?"
Cole nodded and rubbed his chin. "Yes, I do. But I don't despise Morgan, I think I love him. On Belconti, Grandfather Man is mainly concerned to titillate212 his own appetites, but here, well ... how do I feel it?... I think what you have just told me makes me more proud to be a man than I have ever been before. I will carry through the deception213 of Belconti University with all my heart. Can't Morgan understand that?"
"Yes, and kill you anyway. Because you know. You will not lightly be forgiven that."
Cole shook his head helplessly. "Well dammit then—"
"Now, now, there's a way out," Bidgrass said, sitting down again. "The prophecies all foretell214 a change of heart after Grandfather Stomper dies. They speak of joy, love, good feeling. Morgan did agree to your coming here—he wants to hide the past as much as I do and he could see the value of my plan. In the time of good feeling I hope he will accept you."
"I hope so too," Cole said. "Morgan is a strange man. Why is Pia so afraid of him?"
"I'll tell you that, lad—maybe it will help you to appreciate your own danger. Some few of us are educated on Tristan. Twenty-three years ago my younger brother took my niece Flada there. She ran away and married a Tristanian named Ralph Vignoli. My brother persuaded them to come back and live at our installation there, and Ralph swore to keep secret the little he knew.
"The ex-wilds of New Cornwall kept wanting Ralph to come here so they could be sure of the secret. He kept refusing and finally they sent an emissary to kill him. My brother was killed protecting him. I stepped in then with a compromise, persuaded Ralph to come here for the sake of his wife and daughter. Pia was seven at the time.
"Ralph was a good man and fought well in battles, but two years later Morgan and some others came to the house in my absence and took him away. They took him to a clearing in Lundy Forest, where the stompers come to lay eggs, stripped off his clothing and left him. That was so the stompers would not take him for an egg hunter and kill him outright215, but would carry him into the forest like they do with strayed wild stock. Morgan said the command came to him in a dream.
"I think Pia feels she is partly responsible for Ralph's death. I think she sometimes fears Morgan will dream about her, her Tristanian blood...."
"Poor Pia," Cole said softly. "These years of grief and fear...."
"They'll be ended come Hoggy Darn again, Morwenna grant. Don't you grieve her with your death too, lad. Stay close to the house, in the house."
"I must go, I'm late," he said, more cheerfully than Cole had ever heard his voice. "I have a conference with General Arscoate, our military leader, whom you'll meet soon."
He went out. Cole went out too, thoughts wrestling with feelings, looking for Pia.
In the days that followed Cole took his meals with the family except when there were guests not in Bidgrass' confidence. The doors into the main house remained unlocked and he saw much of Pia, but she seemed unexpectedly elusive217 and remote. Cole, busy with his report to Belconti University, had little time to wonder about it.
He faked statistics wholesale218 and cited dozens of nonexistent New Cornish authorities. To his real data indicating critical biomass he added imaginary values for the parameters219 of climate, range, longevity220, fertility period and Ruhan indices to get an estimated figure. Then he faked field census221 reports going back fifty years, and drew a curve dipping below critical ten years before his arrival. He made the latest field census show new biomass forty-two percent below critical and juggled222 figures to make the curve extrapolate to zero in twelve more years.
It pained him in his heart to leave out the curious inverse223 reproduction data. But it was a masterpiece of deception that should put the seal on his doctorate, and because it reported the extinction of a planetary dominant224, he knew it would make the journals and the general news all through the sector.
The night he finished it, working late in the library, Pia brought him milk and cookies and sat with him as he explained what he had done.
"It's right," he defended himself to her against his scholar's conscience. "Humans on New Cornwall are a threatened species too. The secret must be hidden forever."
"Yes," she agreed soberly. "I think if all the sector knew, the ex-wilds would literally225 die of shame and rage. Being wild is not so bad, but—that other!" She shuddered226 under her gray dress.
"Pia, sometimes I feel you're still avoiding me. Surely now it's all right and genuine between us."
She smiled sadly. "I'll bring you trouble, with Morgan. Father came to New Cornwall because of me."
"But I didn't. I've been thinking I may stay, partly because of you. You've been afraid so long it's habitual227."
"Strangely, Flinter, I don't feel it as fear any more. It's like bowing with sadness, my strength to run is gone. My old dreams—Morgan coming for me—I have them every night now."
"Morgan! Always Morgan!"
She shook her head and smiled faintly. "He has a dark, poetic power. He is what he is, just like the stompers. I feel ... not hate, not even fear ... a kind of dread228."
He stroked the back of her hand and she pulled it away.
"An old song runs through my head," she went on. "A prophecy that Grandfather Stomper cannot be killed while outworld blood pumps through any heart on the planet. I feel like my own enemy, like ... like your enemy. You should not have come until next Gorbals. Flinter, stay away from me!"
He talked soothingly229, to little avail. When they parted he said heartily230, "Forget those silly prophecies, Pia. I'll look out for you."
Cole sat beside Pia and across the food-laden table from General Arscoate, a large pink-faced man in middle life.
"It's an old and proven strategy, Mr. Cole," the general explained. "When Hoggy Darn starts we will harass232 the enemy from the air in all but one of the fourteen sizable open spaces in Lundy Forest. That one is Emrys Upland, the largest. They will concentrate in Emrys, more each night, until the climactic night of peak frenzy233. Then we come down with all the men and women we can muster234 and we kill. We may go on killing stragglers for years after, but Grandfather Stomper will die on that night."
"Why not kill from the air?"
"More firepower on the ground. I can only lift ninety-four flyers all told. But I will shuttle twenty thousand fighting men into Emrys in an hour or two on the big night."
"So quickly? How can you?" Cole laid down his fork.
"They will be waiting in the forest top all around the periphery, in places where we are already building weapons dumps. In the first days of harrying235, we will stage in the fighters."
"Morgan will visit each group in the forest top and sing our history," Bidgrass said from the head of the table. "On the evening of the climactic night, as Hoggy Darn rises, they will take a sacramental meal of stomper egg. At no other time is it eaten on this planet."
Mrs. Vignoli looked down. "Garth!" Arscoate said.
"The lad must know, must take it with us," Bidgrass said. "Lad, the real reason for not killing from the air is that the people need to kill personally, with their feet on the ground. So our poetry has always described that last, great fight. I must personally kill Grandfather Stomper."
"The people believe in an actual individual who is the stomper counterpart of Garth here," the general broke in. "You know, Mr. Cole, the stompers we kill ordinarily are all females. The males are smaller, with a white crest237, and they keep to the deep forest except on Hoggy Darn nights. Maybe the frenzy then has something to do with mating—no one knows. But Garth will kill the largest male he can find. The people, and I expect Garth and I as well, are going to believe that he has killed Grandfather Stomper in person."
The general sipped water and looked sternly over his glass at Cole. Cole glanced at Pia, who seemed lost in a dream of her own, not there to them.
"I see. A symbol," he agreed.
"Not the less real," Arscoate said tartly238. "Symbols both mean and are. Garth here is a symbol too and that is why, old as he is, he must be in the thick of it. He is like the ancient battle flags of romantic pre-space history. People before now have actually seen Grandfather Stomper. I am not a superstitious backworlder, Mr. Cole, but—"
Cole raised a placatory239 hand. "I know you are not, general. Forgive me if I seemed to suggest it."
"Let's have wine," Bidgrass said, pushing back his chair. "We'll take it in the parlor240 and Pia can sing for us."
When General Arscoate said good-night he told Cole not to worry, that he would have reliable guards at the manor gate during Garth Bidgrass' absence in Car Truro.
"I meant to tell you and Pia in the morning, lad," Bidgrass said. "Arscoate and I must go to Car Truro. There's heartburning there over who gets to fight and who must stay behind. It will be only two days."
Cole felt uneasy all day. He spent most of it writing the covering letter for his report and phrasing his resignation from the university field staff. He wrote personal letters to his uncle and a few friends. After dinner he finally signed the official letters and took the completed report to Bidgrass' desk. Then he went to bed and slept soundly.
"Dress quickly, Flinter. The guard at the gate was just changed and it's not time."
She darted out to the hall window while he struggled with clothing, then back again.
"Quickly, darling! Morgan's crossing the garden, with men. Follow me."
She led him through the kitchen and out a pantry window, then stooping along the base of a hedge to where a flowering tree overshadowed the garden wall.
"I planned this, out of sight of guard posts, when I was a little girl," she whispered. "I always knew—over, Flinter, quickly!"
Outside was rough ground, a road, a wide field of cabbages and then the barrier. Veiled Annis rode high and bluish in the clear sky. They crossed the field in soaring leaps, and shouts pursued them. The girl ran north a hundred yards behind the shadowy buttresses242 and squeezed through a narrow crack between two huge timber baulks. Cole barely made it, skinning his shoulders.
"I found this too when I was a little girl," Pia whispered. "I had to enlarge it when my hips193 grew, but only just enough. Morwenna grant they're all too big!"
"Morgan is, for sure," Cole said, rubbing his shoulder. "Pia, I hate to run."
"We must still run. My old plan was to reach here unseen, but now they know and they'll come over the wall in flyers. We'll have to hide in the thick brush near the forest edge until Uncle Garth returns."
She pulled a basket out of the shadows.
"Food," she said. "I brought it last night."
He carried the basket and they raced across the half-mile belt to concealment244 among high shrubbery and enormous mounds245 of fungi. Flyers with floodlights came low along the wall and others quartered the clearing. Cole and Pia stole nearer to the forest edge, into its shadow. They did not sleep.
Once he asked, "How about stompers?"
"They're a chance," she whispered. "Morgan's sure."
With daylight they saw four flyers patrolling instead of the usual one. At their backs colossal246 blackish-gray, deeply rugose tree trunks eighty feet in diameter rose up and up without a branch for many hundreds of feet. Then branches jutted247 out enormously and the colorful cascade248 of forest-top epiphytes came down the side and hung over their heads a thousand feet above.
Pia opened the food basket and they ate, seated on a bank. She wore her brown dress, her finest, he had learned, and she had new red shoes. She was quiet, as if tranced.
Cole remembered the picnic on the forest top, the secret island of beauty and innocence249, and his heart stirred. He saw that the food basket was the same one. He did not tell her his thoughts.
They talked of trivial things or were silent for long periods. He held her hand. Once she roused herself to say, "Tomorrow, about this time, Uncle Garth will come looking for us." Shortly after, she gasped250 and caught his arm, pointing.
He peered, finally made a gestalt of broken outlines through the shrubbery. It was a stomper, swinging its head nervously.
"It smells us," she whispered. "Oh Flinter, forgive me darling. Take off your clothes, quickly!"
She undressed rapidly and hid her clothes. Cole undressed too, fear prickling his skin, remembering what Bidgrass had told him. The stomper moved nearer in a crackle of brush and stopped again.
Man and girl knelt trembling under a fan of red-orange fungus. The girl broke off a piece and motioned the man to do the same.
"When it comes, pretend to eat," she breathed, almost inaudibly. "Don't look up and don't say a word. Morwenna be with us now."
The stomper's shadow fell across them. The man's skin prickled and sweat sprang out. He looked at the girl and she was pale but not tense, munching251 on her piece of fungus. She clicked her teeth faintly and he knew it was a signal. He ate.
The stomper lifted the man by his right shoulder. It was like two fingers in a mitten252 holding him three times his own height off the ground. He saw the beak and the eye and his sight dimmed in anguish253.
Then the right wing reached down and nipped the left shoulder of the rosy girl-body placidly254 crouching255 there. It swung her up to face the man momentarily under the great beak and the tri-corn eye, and their own eyes met.
Very faintly she smiled and her eyes tried desperately256 to say, "I'm sorry" and "Goodbye, Flinter." His eyes cried in agony "No! No! I will not have it so!"
Then the two-fingered mitten became a nine-fingered mitten lapping him in darkness that bounced and swayed and he knew that the stomper was running into Lundy Forest. The wing was smooth and warm but not soft, and it smelled of cinnamon and sandalwood. The odor overpowered him and the man lapsed257 into stupor258.
The man woke into a fantastic dream. Luminous259 surfaces stretched up to be lost in gloom, with columns of darkness between. The spongy ground on which he lay shone with faint blue light. Luminous, slanting260 walls criss-crossed in front of him. Close at hand, behind and to the right, enormous bracket fungi ascended261 into darkness in ten-foot steps that supported a profusion of higher order fungi in many bizarre shapes.
He stood up and he was alone.
He climbed over a slanting root-buttress243 and saw her lying there. He called her name and she rose lightly and came to him. Radiant face, dimpled arms, round breasts, cradling hips: his woman. They embraced without shame and she cried thanks to Morwenna.
He said, "People have come out of the forest. What are the rules?"
"We must eat only the seeds of the pure white fungus—that's the least dangerous. We must walk and walk to keep our bodies so tired and hungry that they use it all. We must keep to a straight line."
"We'll live," he said. "Outside among our people, with our minds whole. We'll alternate left and right each time we round a tree, to hold our straight line. We'll come out somewhere."
"I will follow. May Morwenna go with us."
The fantastic journey wound over great gnarled roots and buttresses fusing and intermingling until it seemed that the root-complex was one unthinkably vast organism with many trunks soaring half-seen into endless darkness. Time had no feeling there. Space was a bubble of ghostly light a man could leap across.
Could leap and did, over and over, the woman following. The man climbed a curiously262 regular, whitish root higher than his head and it writhed. Then, swaying bark along its length, came a great serpent head with luminous ovoid eyes. While the man crouched263 in horror, waving the woman back, the monstrous264 jaws265 gaped266 and the teeth were blunt choppers and grinders, weirdly267 human looking. They bit hugely into a bracket fungus and worried at it. Man and woman hurried on.
Strength waned268. The woman fell behind. The man turned back to her and the light was failing. The blue mold was black, the luminous panels more ghostly.
"It's night. Shall we sleep?" he asked.
"It's just come day," the woman said, pointing upward.
He looked up. Far above, where had been gloom, hung a pinkish-green, opalescent269 haze270 of light. Parallel lines of tree trunks converged271 through it to be lost in nebulosity.
"Daylight overpowers the luminous fungi," she said.
"We sleep, then walk again. Shall we find food?"
"No. We must always go to sleep hungry so we will wake again."
They looked, until tired out, for a place of shelter.
They slept, locked together in the cranny of a massive buttress. The man dreamed of his tame home-world.
He woke again into nightmare. In a twenty-foot fan-grove of the white fungus they combed handfuls of black spores272 out of gill slots. The birdshot-sized spores had a pleasant, nutty flavor.
With the strength more walking. Use it, use it, burn the poison. Day faded above, and luminous night below came back to light the way. A rocky ledge273 and another, and then a shallow ravine with a black stream cascading274. They drank and the man said, "We'll follow it, find an upland clearing."
They heard rapid motion and crouched unbreathing while a stomper minced275 by up ahead. It had a white crest.
On and on, fatigue276 the whip for greater fatigue and salvation277 at the end of endurance. They passed wild humans. A statuesque woman with dull eyes and yellow hair to her ankles, placidly feeding. Babies big as four-year-old normals, by themselves, grazing on finger-shaped fungi. An enormous human, fourteen feet tall, fat-enfolded, too ponderous278 to stand even in low gravity, crawling through fungus beds. The man could not tell its sex.
On and on, sleep and eat and travel and sleep, darkness above or darkness below, outside of time. The stream lost, found again, sourcing out finally under a great rock. And there, lodged279 in a black sandbank, the man found a human thigh280 bone half his own height. He scoured281 off the water mold with sand. He was armed.
The man walked ahead clutching his thigh bone, and the woman followed. They slept clasped together naked all three, man, woman and thigh bone.
Stompers passed them and they crouched in sham195 feeding. The man prayed without words, both or neither. And hatred grew in him.
Snakes and giant slugs and the beautiful, gigantic, mindless wild humans, again and again, a familiar part of nightmare. The fat and truly enormous humans; and the man learned they had been male once. He remembered from far away where time was linear the voice of Grandfather Man: Some are beyond saving, and those they kill.
And a stomper passed, white crested282, and far ahead a human voice cried out in wordless pain and protest. The man was minded to deviate283 from his line for fear of what they might see, but he did not. When they came on the boy, larger than the man but beardless and without formed muscles, the man looked at the tears dropping from the dull eyes and the blood dropping from the mutilation and killed him with the thigh bone. Some are beyond saving. And the hatred in him flamed to whiteness.
On and on, day above and day below in recurrent clash of lights. A white crested stomper paused and looked at them, crouched apart and trembling. The man felt the deepest, most anguished284 fear of all and beneath it, hatred surged until his teeth ached.
The land sloped upward and became rocky. The trees became smaller and wider spaced so that whole trunks were visible and the light of upper day descended286. A patch of blue sky, then more as they ran shouting with gladness, and a bare mountain crest reared in the distance.
They embraced in wild joy and the woman cried, "Thank you, oh loveliest Morwenna!"
"Pia, we're human again," Cole said. "We're back in the world. And I love you."
Fearful of stompers, they moved rapidly away from the forest over steadily287 rising ground. The growth became more sparse288, the ground more rocky, and near evening they crossed a wide moorland covered with coarse grass and scattered290 blocks of stone. Ahead a long, low fault scarp bounded it and there they found a cave tunneled into the rock, too narrow for a stomper. At last they felt safe. Morwenna rode silvery above the distant forest.
Water trickled291 from the cave which widened into a squared-off chamber292 in which the water spilled over the rim12 of a basin that looked cut with hands. Underfoot were small stone cylinders293 of various lengths and as his eyes adjusted Cole saw that they were drill cores.
"Prospectors294 made this," he told Pia, "in the old, innocent days when they still hoped to find heavy metals." Then he saw the graven initials, T.C.B., and the date, 157 A.S.
They ate red berries growing in their dooryard, gathered grass for a bed and slept in a great weariness.
Next day and the next they ate red berries and fleshy, purple ground fruits and slept, gaining strength. Secure in their cave mouth they watched stompers cross the moorland. When night fell they gazed at the bunched moons, but the three Maidens did not quite form a house and Hoggy Darn was still pursuing them.
"A few days," Pia said.
"If this isn't Emrys Upland, Arscoate will kill us with fire mist."
She nodded.
More stompers crossed the moorland, some white crested. They moved there randomly295 at night and from the forest came a far-off sound of stompers singing. The Maidens formed a house and Hoggy Darn grazed the side of it before they fled. To south and west faint rose glowed in the night sky.
"Fire mist," Pia said. "The nights of harrying have begun. Oh Flinter, if this is really Emrys Upland it will be perfect."
"What will?"
"You—us—oh, I can't say yet."
"Secrets, Pia? Still secrets? Between us?"
"You'll know soon, Flinter. I mustn't spoil it."
The love in her eyes was tinged296 with a strangeness. She sought his arms and hid her face in his shoulder.
Stompers on the moorland all day so they dared not leave the cave. Flyers streaking297 high overhead, scouting298.
"Pia, I believe this is Emrys Upland. I'll help after all with the great killing."
"You will help, Flinter."
"We will never see Belconti, Flinter."
The strangeness in her eyes troubled him. He could not kiss it away.
Stompers crowding the moorland all night with their dancing, their vast singing coming to the cave from all round the compass. Rose banks distant in the night sky and Hoggy Darn crossing the House of the Maidens. Red Hoggy Darn, still lagging, still not catching it perfectly300 upright. The strangeness of Pia. The waiting, clutching a polished thigh bone.
At last the night when the mighty war song of the stompers went up unbearably301, as the man had heard it that once before, and fire mist boiled along the distant mountains. Flyers shuttled across the sky, dropped, rose again. Blasters ripped the night with ion-pencils. Hoggy Darn gleamed redly on the threshold of the House of the Maidens that stood almost upright and perfect with silvery Morwenna at the vertex. Flyers blasted clearings in the throng302 of stompers, and grounded. Men boiled out of them, setting up Corbin powercasters here, there, another place, fighting as soon as their feet hit ground.
The man stood up and brandished303 the thigh bone.
"I must go down and fight. Wait here."
"I must go too," the girl said calmly.
"Yes, you must," he agreed. "Come along."
Stampers rushed by them and bounded over their heads and did not harm them. Blaster-torn stompers fell heavily beside them, threshing and snapping, and they were not touched. Men lowered weapons to point at the man and girl, shouting to one another out of mazed304 faces silently in the whelming music of the stomper chorus. Man and girl walked on.
Unharmed through the forest of singing, leaping shapes, hand in hand through a screen of fighting men that parted to admit them, they walked into the light of a glowing Corbin where a tall, gaunt old man stood watching their approach. The feeling of exalted305 unreality began to lift from Cole.
"Grandfather, give us blasters," he shouted. "We want to fight."
"The power is on you, lad, and you only half know it," the old man shouted back. "Stand here by the Corbin. Your fight is not yet." Tears stood in the fierce old eyes.
Across the moorland the fighting raged. Islands of men and women grouped round their Corbins held back the booming, chaotic306 sea of stompers that surged against them from all sides. Dikes of dead and dying grew up, men and stompers mingled307. The flyers shuttled down and up again and more islands of men took shape. Hoggy Darn crossed the threshold and the savage war song of the stompers shook the night sky.
In a lull308 Morgan came in to the Corbin to change the wave track on his blaster. His face was a mask of iron joy and his eyes blazed.
"Morgan, if we are both alive after, I will kill you!" Cole shouted.
"No," Morgan rumbled. "You have been into the forest and come out again. It took you three weeks. It took me three hundred years. Clasp hands, my brother in hatred."
"Yes, brother in hatred." The exalted unreality began coming back strongly. "I want a blaster!" he howled at Morgan.
"No, brother in hatred, your fight is not yet." Morgan rejoined the battle, the ring of men standing braced in blaster harness fifty yards away, ripping down with interweaving ion-pencils the great forms leaping inward. Man and girl held hands and watched.
To the left trouble came to a nearby island. Stompers converged from all sides, abandoning the other attacks, impossibly many. They overran the defenders309, attacking not them but the powercaster behind them, and piled up until the Corbin's blue-violet glare was hidden. A great blossoming of flame tore the pile of stompers apart, but the Corbin was dark.
"They blew out the power banks," Pia said. "They've never known to do that before. Now the men still living have only pack charges."
It was a new tactic310, a death-hour flash of insight for Grandfather Stomper. Across the moor289, island after island went dark and the war song grew in savage exultation311, but the man thought it dwindled in total volume. Then it was their own turn.
Cole and Pia crouched away from the Corbin in the lee of a stone block and two still-twitching stompers. Beside them Morgan and Bidgrass fired steadily at the shapes hurtling above. When the Corbin blew, a wave of stinking312 heat rolled over them. All around, survivors313 struggled to their feet, using flame pistols to head-shoot wounded stompers, digging out and connecting emergency pack charges to their blasters. They were pitifully few and their new, dark island was thirty feet across.
The moor seemed dark with only the red of flame pistols and the violet flickering314 of power pack blasters. It seemed to heave randomly like a sluggish315 sea with the seen struggles of dying stompers and the felt struggles of lesser human bodies. Thinned now, stompers attacked singly or in small groups. Blasters flickered and ripped and went darkly silent as power packs discharged. The red of short-range flame pistols replaced them. But across the fault scarp ridge177 the tumult316 swelled to new heights and Corbin after Corbin there flamed out of existence in a bloom of rose-purple against the skyline.
In a lull Bidgrass shouted to Morgan, "That's costing them more than they have to give, over there. Listen. Can you hear it?"
"Yes, Father in Hatred," Morgan said. "They will break soon."
"Yes, when Arscoate lays the fire mist. They will come through here. I have one charge left."
"I have two, Father in Hatred. Change packs with me."
Cole found his voice and his senses once more.
"I must find a weapon! Grandfather, give me your flame pistol!"
Stompers streamed over the moor again and the fighting flared up. The war song beat against the man's ears so that he drew the girl nearer and shook the thigh bone. Blaster fire flickered out altogether and the red blooming of flame pistols weakened. But more and more stompers streamed past without attacking. Then the man saw fire mist plume318 lazily in the east, point after point coalescing319 all along the forest edge.
"Now!" shouted a great voice beside him. "Now, lad!"
It was old Bidgrass, striding out like a giant, blaster leveled in its carrying harness.
The shout released Cole and he saw it far off, coming down the scrap4 rubble320 to the moor. Huger than any, white crest thirty feet above the ground, Grandfather Stomper. The war song roared insanely over the moor. Hoggy Darn gleamed heart-midst of the three lady moons.
The grim old man aimed and fired. The great bird-shape staggered and came on, left wing trailing. The old man waited until it was nearly on top of him and fired again. The stomper jerked its head and the bolt shattered the great tripart beak but did not kill it. With the right mitten-wing it reached down and swung its adversary321 twenty feet up, held him and haggled322 at him with its stumps323 of beak.
The old man's free right arm flailed324 wildly. Cole beat the stomper's leg with the thigh bone and howled in hatred. Then he saw the flame pistol lying where it had fallen from the holster. He picked it up, but the power was on him again and he did not use it. He hurled325 the thigh bone at the stomper's head, diverting it for a second, and tossed the pistol to old Bidgrass. He knew they could not fail.
The old man caught the pistol. When the great head swung back he held the muzzle326 against the tri-corn eye and fired. Red plasma-jet burned into the brain behind it. The stomper bounded once in the air, dropped its slayer327, ran three steps and collapsed328.
The stomper song changed suddenly. It became a mournful lament143, a dying into grieving subsonics. Cole knew that note. He had heard it from the stompers in the stone-floored pen when the butchers were hacking off their heads. He knew that Grandfather Stomper was dead forever, after seven hundred years of war.
Flyers crossed above, blasters were still at work across the ridge, but the war was ended. The power, whatever that sense of exalted unreality might be, left Cole; and he felt naked and ridiculous and wondered what he was doing there. Then he saw the girl bending above Garth Bidgrass and regained329 control of himself.
The strong old man was smiling wearily.
"We've won the war, lad," he said. "The next task is yours."
"I'll help you," Cole said.
"You'll lead. Oh, I'll live, but not for long. Centuries ago, lad, there was a prophecy, and until tonight people like myself and Arscoate thought it was only poetry, however literally Morgan and the other ex-wilds took it."
"What was it?"
"It foretells330 that on the night Grandfather Stomper shall die the new Grandfather Man will come naked out of the forest with his beautiful wife and armed with a thigh bone, and that he will lead us in the even greater task of reclamation that comes after. Your ritual title of address is 'Father in Love,' lad, and I'm just a broken old man now. Take up the burden."
Cole's throat swelled, choking speech for a moment.
"I can start," he said.
The End
The End

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1
poised
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a.摆好姿势不动的 | |
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stomper
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pointed
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adj.尖的,直截了当的 | |
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scrap
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n.碎片;废料;v.废弃,报废 | |
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5
doctorate
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n.(大学授予的)博士学位 | |
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standing
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n.持续,地位;adj.永久的,不动的,直立的,不流动的 | |
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7
freckles
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n.雀斑,斑点( freckle的名词复数 ) | |
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essentially
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adv.本质上,实质上,基本上 | |
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ecosystem
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n.生态系统 | |
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functional
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adj.为实用而设计的,具备功能的,起作用的 | |
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hatchet
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n.短柄小斧;v.扼杀 | |
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rim
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n.(圆物的)边,轮缘;边界 | |
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humbled
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adj. 卑下的,谦逊的,粗陋的 vt. 使 ... 卑下,贬低 | |
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14
parasite
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n.寄生虫;寄生菌;食客 | |
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jugular
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n.颈静脉 | |
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bent
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n.爱好,癖好;adj.弯的;决心的,一心的 | |
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17
lustrously
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adv.光亮地;有光泽地;灿烂地 | |
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18
vernacular
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adj.地方的,用地方语写成的;n.白话;行话;本国语;动植物的俗名 | |
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19
resonant
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adj.(声音)洪亮的,共鸣的 | |
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translucent
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adj.半透明的;透明的 | |
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radius
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n.半径,半径范围;有效航程,范围,界限 | |
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cargo
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n.(一只船或一架飞机运载的)货物 | |
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noted
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adj.著名的,知名的 | |
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growled
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v.(动物)发狺狺声, (雷)作隆隆声( growl的过去式和过去分词 );低声咆哮着说 | |
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goggles
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n.护目镜 | |
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shrill
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adj.尖声的;刺耳的;v尖叫 | |
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gouge
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v.凿;挖出;n.半圆凿;凿孔;欺诈 | |
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beak
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n.鸟嘴,茶壶嘴,钩形鼻 | |
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residual
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adj.复播复映追加时间;存留下来的,剩余的 | |
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dressing
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n.(食物)调料;包扎伤口的用品,敷料 | |
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archaic
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adj.(语言、词汇等)古代的,已不通用的 | |
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32
strapped
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adj.用皮带捆住的,用皮带装饰的;身无分文的;缺钱;手头紧v.用皮带捆扎(strap的过去式和过去分词);用皮带抽打;包扎;给…打绷带 | |
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plank
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n.板条,木板,政策要点,政纲条目 | |
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bloody
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adj.非常的的;流血的;残忍的;adv.很;vt.血染 | |
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35
singed
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v.浅表烧焦( singe的过去式和过去分词 );(毛发)燎,烧焦尖端[边儿] | |
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spun
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v.纺,杜撰,急转身 | |
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rumbled
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发出隆隆声,发出辘辘声( rumble的过去式和过去分词 ); 轰鸣着缓慢行进; 发现…的真相; 看穿(阴谋) | |
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impulsive
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adj.冲动的,刺激的;有推动力的 | |
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glumly
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adv.忧郁地,闷闷不乐地;阴郁地 | |
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dissecting
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v.解剖(动物等)( dissect的现在分词 );仔细分析或研究 | |
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parasites
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寄生物( parasite的名词复数 ); 靠他人为生的人; 诸虫 | |
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anatomy
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n.解剖学,解剖;功能,结构,组织 | |
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43
shearing
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n.剪羊毛,剪取的羊毛v.剪羊毛( shear的现在分词 );切断;剪切 | |
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fixed
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adj.固定的,不变的,准备好的;(计算机)固定的 | |
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triangular
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adj.三角(形)的,三者间的 | |
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elastic
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n.橡皮圈,松紧带;adj.有弹性的;灵活的 | |
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stiffened
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加强的 | |
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48
sterile
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adj.不毛的,不孕的,无菌的,枯燥的,贫瘠的 | |
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49
broth
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n.原(汁)汤(鱼汤、肉汤、菜汤等) | |
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50
derived
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vi.起源;由来;衍生;导出v.得到( derive的过去式和过去分词 );(从…中)得到获得;源于;(从…中)提取 | |
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51
solitary
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adj.孤独的,独立的,荒凉的;n.隐士 | |
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52
isolated
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adj.与世隔绝的 | |
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wariness
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n. 注意,小心 | |
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hatred
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n.憎恶,憎恨,仇恨 | |
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55
vaguely
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adv.含糊地,暖昧地 | |
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56
dissected
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adj.切开的,分割的,(叶子)多裂的v.解剖(动物等)( dissect的过去式和过去分词 );仔细分析或研究 | |
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57
fungus
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n.真菌,真菌类植物 | |
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58
specimens
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n.样品( specimen的名词复数 );范例;(化验的)抽样;某种类型的人 | |
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59
fauna
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n.(一个地区或时代的)所有动物,动物区系 | |
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60
applied
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adj.应用的;v.应用,适用 | |
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61
frustrated
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adj.挫败的,失意的,泄气的v.使不成功( frustrate的过去式和过去分词 );挫败;使受挫折;令人沮丧 | |
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62
stammered
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v.结巴地说出( stammer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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63
enraged
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使暴怒( enrage的过去式和过去分词 ); 歜; 激愤 | |
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64
potent
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adj.强有力的,有权势的;有效力的 | |
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65
prey
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n.被掠食者,牺牲者,掠食;v.捕食,掠夺,折磨 | |
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66
superstitious
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adj.迷信的 | |
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67
placating
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v.安抚,抚慰,使平静( placate的现在分词 ) | |
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68
wary
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adj.谨慎的,机警的,小心的 | |
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69
shrugged
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vt.耸肩(shrug的过去式与过去分词形式) | |
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70
conspiring
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密谋( conspire的现在分词 ); 搞阴谋; (事件等)巧合; 共同导致 | |
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71
wail
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vt./vi.大声哀号,恸哭;呼啸,尖啸 | |
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72
herding
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中畜群 | |
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73
nervously
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adv.神情激动地,不安地 | |
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74
veranda
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n.走廊;阳台 | |
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75
swell
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vi.膨胀,肿胀;增长,增强 | |
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76
swelling
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n.肿胀 | |
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77
grotesque
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adj.怪诞的,丑陋的;n.怪诞的图案,怪人(物) | |
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78
shrieking
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v.尖叫( shriek的现在分词 ) | |
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79
ablaze
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adj.着火的,燃烧的;闪耀的,灯火辉煌的 | |
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80
swooping
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俯冲,猛冲( swoop的现在分词 ) | |
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81
motes
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n.尘埃( mote的名词复数 );斑点 | |
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82
flickered
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(通常指灯光)闪烁,摇曳( flicker的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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83
verging
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接近,逼近(verge的现在分词形式) | |
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84
glided
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v.滑动( glide的过去式和过去分词 );掠过;(鸟或飞机 ) 滑翔 | |
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85
swarmed
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密集( swarm的过去式和过去分词 ); 云集; 成群地移动; 蜜蜂或其他飞行昆虫成群地飞来飞去 | |
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86
swelled
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增强( swell的过去式和过去分词 ); 肿胀; (使)凸出; 充满(激情) | |
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87
exultant
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adj.欢腾的,狂欢的,大喜的 | |
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88
backbone
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n.脊骨,脊柱,骨干;刚毅,骨气 | |
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89
seethed
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(液体)沸腾( seethe的过去式和过去分词 ); 激动,大怒; 强压怒火; 生闷气(~with sth|~ at sth) | |
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90
defense
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n.防御,保卫;[pl.]防务工事;辩护,答辩 | |
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91
perimeter
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n.周边,周长,周界 | |
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92
Flared
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adj. 端部张开的, 爆发的, 加宽的, 漏斗式的 动词flare的过去式和过去分词 | |
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93
periphery
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n.(圆体的)外面;周围 | |
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94
savage
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adj.野蛮的;凶恶的,残暴的;n.未开化的人 | |
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95
puny
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adj.微不足道的,弱小的 | |
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96
eddy
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n.漩涡,涡流 | |
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97
convoy
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vt.护送,护卫,护航;n.护送;护送队 | |
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98
manor
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n.庄园,领地 | |
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99
squat
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v.蹲坐,蹲下;n.蹲下;adj.矮胖的,粗矮的 | |
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100
vertical
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adj.垂直的,顶点的,纵向的;n.垂直物,垂直的位置 | |
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101
cylinder
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n.圆筒,柱(面),汽缸 | |
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102
ornamental
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adj.装饰的;作装饰用的;n.装饰品;观赏植物 | |
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103
justification
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n.正当的理由;辩解的理由 | |
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104
braced
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adj.拉牢的v.支住( brace的过去式和过去分词 );撑牢;使自己站稳;振作起来 | |
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105
agonizing
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adj.痛苦难忍的;使人苦恼的v.使极度痛苦;折磨(agonize的ing形式) | |
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106
dwindled
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v.逐渐变少或变小( dwindle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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107
wailing
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v.哭叫,哀号( wail的现在分词 );沱 | |
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108
writhe
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vt.挣扎,痛苦地扭曲;vi.扭曲,翻腾,受苦;n.翻腾,苦恼 | |
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109
eyelid
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n.眼睑,眼皮 | |
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110
laterally
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ad.横向地;侧面地;旁边地 | |
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111
flaring
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a.火焰摇曳的,过份艳丽的 | |
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112
eyebrow
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n.眉毛,眉 | |
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113
eyebrows
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眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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114
blistered
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adj.水疮状的,泡状的v.(使)起水泡( blister的过去式和过去分词 );(使表皮等)涨破,爆裂 | |
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115
dourly
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116
kindly
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adj.和蔼的,温和的,爽快的;adv.温和地,亲切地 | |
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117
catching
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adj.易传染的,有魅力的,迷人的,接住 | |
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118
scowl
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vi.(at)生气地皱眉,沉下脸,怒视;n.怒容 | |
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119
ragged
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adj.衣衫褴褛的,粗糙的,刺耳的 | |
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120
sterilizing
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v.消毒( sterilize的现在分词 );使无菌;使失去生育能力;使绝育 | |
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121
helping
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n.食物的一份&adj.帮助人的,辅助的 | |
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122
dressings
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n.敷料剂;穿衣( dressing的名词复数 );穿戴;(拌制色拉的)调料;(保护伤口的)敷料 | |
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123
projectors
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电影放映机,幻灯机( projector的名词复数 ) | |
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124
slaughter
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n.屠杀,屠宰;vt.屠杀,宰杀 | |
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125
iridescent
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adj.彩虹色的,闪色的 | |
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126
domed
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adj. 圆屋顶的, 半球形的, 拱曲的 动词dome的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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127
dissection
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n.分析;解剖 | |
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128
spat
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n.口角,掌击;v.发出呼噜呼噜声 | |
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129
skull
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n.头骨;颅骨 | |
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130
incision
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n.切口,切开 | |
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131
axe
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n.斧子;v.用斧头砍,削减 | |
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132
hacking
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n.非法访问计算机系统和数据库的活动 | |
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133
writhed
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(因极度痛苦而)扭动或翻滚( writhe的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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134
beaks
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n.鸟嘴( beak的名词复数 );鹰钩嘴;尖鼻子;掌权者 | |
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135
wrested
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(用力)拧( wrest的过去式和过去分词 ); 费力取得; (从…)攫取; ( 从… ) 强行取去… | |
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136
maniacs
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n.疯子(maniac的复数形式) | |
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137
nutrient
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adj.营养的,滋养的;n.营养物,营养品 | |
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138
spoke
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n.(车轮的)辐条;轮辐;破坏某人的计划;阻挠某人的行动 v.讲,谈(speak的过去式);说;演说;从某种观点来说 | |
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139
glowering
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v.怒视( glower的现在分词 ) | |
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140
odds
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n.让步,机率,可能性,比率;胜败优劣之别 | |
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141
immature
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adj.未成熟的,发育未全的,未充分发展的 | |
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142
filamented
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adj.有细丝的 | |
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143
lament
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n.悲叹,悔恨,恸哭;v.哀悼,悔恨,悲叹 | |
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144
marvel
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vi.(at)惊叹vt.感到惊异;n.令人惊异的事 | |
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145
squinted
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斜视( squint的过去式和过去分词 ); 眯着眼睛; 瞟; 从小孔或缝隙里看 | |
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146
Fertilized
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v.施肥( fertilize的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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147
sector
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n.部门,部分;防御地段,防区;扇形 | |
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148
nettled
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v.拿荨麻打,拿荨麻刺(nettle的过去式与过去分词形式) | |
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149
scowled
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怒视,生气地皱眉( scowl的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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150
migration
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n.迁移,移居,(鸟类等的)迁徙 | |
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151
extinction
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n.熄灭,消亡,消灭,灭绝,绝种 | |
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152
anthropologist
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n.人类学家,人类学者 | |
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153
exterminate
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v.扑灭,消灭,根绝 | |
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154
propped
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支撑,支持,维持( prop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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155
doggedly
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adv.顽强地,固执地 | |
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156
scowling
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怒视,生气地皱眉( scowl的现在分词 ) | |
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157
rosy
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adj.美好的,乐观的,玫瑰色的 | |
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158
decided
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adj.决定了的,坚决的;明显的,明确的 | |
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159
caress
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vt./n.爱抚,抚摸 | |
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160
goblets
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n.高脚酒杯( goblet的名词复数 ) | |
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161
hamper
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vt.妨碍,束缚,限制;n.(有盖的)大篮子 | |
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162
bard
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n.吟游诗人 | |
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163
isthmus
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n.地峡 | |
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164
slash
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vi.大幅度削减;vt.猛砍,尖锐抨击,大幅减少;n.猛砍,斜线,长切口,衣衩 | |
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165
mighty
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adj.强有力的;巨大的 | |
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166
lichen
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n.地衣, 青苔 | |
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167
fragrance
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n.芬芳,香味,香气 | |
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168
profusion
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n.挥霍;丰富 | |
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169
darted
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v.投掷,投射( dart的过去式和过去分词 );向前冲,飞奔 | |
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170
sipped
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v.小口喝,呷,抿( sip的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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171
rustling
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n. 瑟瑟声,沙沙声 adj. 发沙沙声的 | |
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172
yearned
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渴望,切盼,向往( yearn的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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173
drooped
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弯曲或下垂,发蔫( droop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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174
liar
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n.说谎的人 | |
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175
sobbing
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<主方>Ⅰ adj.湿透的 | |
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176
subdued
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adj. 屈服的,柔和的,减弱的 动词subdue的过去式和过去分词 | |
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177
ridge
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n.山脊;鼻梁;分水岭 | |
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178
metabolism
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n.新陈代谢 | |
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179
unnatural
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adj.不自然的;反常的 | |
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180
complexity
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n.复杂(性),复杂的事物 | |
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181
gathering
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n.集会,聚会,聚集 | |
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182
resistant
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adj.(to)抵抗的,有抵抗力的 | |
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183
fungi
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n.真菌,霉菌 | |
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184
grasslands
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n.草原,牧场( grassland的名词复数 ) | |
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185
simplicity
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n.简单,简易;朴素;直率,单纯 | |
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186
stature
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n.(高度)水平,(高度)境界,身高,身材 | |
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187
tainted
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adj.腐坏的;污染的;沾污的;感染的v.使变质( taint的过去式和过去分词 );使污染;败坏;被污染,腐坏,败坏 | |
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188
tyrants
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专制统治者( tyrant的名词复数 ); 暴君似的人; (古希腊的)僭主; 严酷的事物 | |
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189
killing
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n.巨额利润;突然赚大钱,发大财 | |
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190
herds
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兽群( herd的名词复数 ); 牧群; 人群; 群众 | |
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191
bards
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n.诗人( bard的名词复数 ) | |
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192
engraved
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v.在(硬物)上雕刻(字,画等)( engrave的过去式和过去分词 );将某事物深深印在(记忆或头脑中) | |
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193
hips
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abbr.high impact polystyrene 高冲击强度聚苯乙烯,耐冲性聚苯乙烯n.臀部( hip的名词复数 );[建筑学]屋脊;臀围(尺寸);臀部…的 | |
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194
lesser
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adj.次要的,较小的;adv.较小地,较少地 | |
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195
sham
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n./adj.假冒(的),虚伪(的) | |
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196
tractable
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adj.易驾驭的;温顺的 | |
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197
fortified
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adj. 加强的 | |
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198
configuration
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n.结构,布局,形态,(计算机)配置 | |
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199
maidens
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处女( maiden的名词复数 ); 少女; 未婚女子; (板球运动)未得分的一轮投球 | |
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200
maiden
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n.少女,处女;adj.未婚的,纯洁的,无经验的 | |
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201
fully
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adv.完全地,全部地,彻底地;充分地 | |
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202
harried
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v.使苦恼( harry的过去式和过去分词 );不断烦扰;一再袭击;侵扰 | |
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203
sanctuary
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n.圣所,圣堂,寺庙;禁猎区,保护区 | |
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204
reclamation
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n.开垦;改造;(废料等的)回收 | |
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205
poetic
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adj.富有诗意的,有诗人气质的,善于抒情的 | |
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206
drawn
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v.拖,拉,拔出;adj.憔悴的,紧张的 | |
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207
hitching
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搭乘; (免费)搭乘他人之车( hitch的现在分词 ); 搭便车; 攀上; 跃上 | |
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208
reclaim
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v.要求归还,收回;开垦 | |
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209
redeem
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v.买回,赎回,挽回,恢复,履行(诺言等) | |
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210
forfeit
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vt.丧失;n.罚金,罚款,没收物 | |
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211
guilt
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n.犯罪;内疚;过失,罪责 | |
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212
titillate
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v.挑逗;使兴奋 | |
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213
deception
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n.欺骗,欺诈;骗局,诡计 | |
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214
foretell
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v.预言,预告,预示 | |
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215
outright
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adv.坦率地;彻底地;立即;adj.无疑的;彻底的 | |
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216
gulped
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v.狼吞虎咽地吃,吞咽( gulp的过去式和过去分词 );大口地吸(气);哽住 | |
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217
elusive
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adj.难以表达(捉摸)的;令人困惑的;逃避的 | |
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218
wholesale
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n.批发;adv.以批发方式;vt.批发,成批出售 | |
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219
parameters
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因素,特征; 界限; (限定性的)因素( parameter的名词复数 ); 参量; 参项; 决定因素 | |
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220
longevity
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n.长命;长寿 | |
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221
census
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n.(官方的)人口调查,人口普查 | |
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222
juggled
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v.歪曲( juggle的过去式和过去分词 );耍弄;有效地组织;尽力同时应付(两个或两个以上的重要工作或活动) | |
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223
inverse
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adj.相反的,倒转的,反转的;n.相反之物;v.倒转 | |
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224
dominant
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adj.支配的,统治的;占优势的;显性的;n.主因,要素,主要的人(或物);显性基因 | |
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225
literally
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adv.照字面意义,逐字地;确实 | |
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226
shuddered
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v.战栗( shudder的过去式和过去分词 );发抖;(机器、车辆等)突然震动;颤动 | |
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227
habitual
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adj.习惯性的;通常的,惯常的 | |
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228
dread
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vt.担忧,忧虑;惧怕,不敢;n.担忧,畏惧 | |
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229
soothingly
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adv.抚慰地,安慰地;镇痛地 | |
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230
heartily
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adv.衷心地,诚恳地,十分,很 | |
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231
privately
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adv.以私人的身份,悄悄地,私下地 | |
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232
harass
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vt.使烦恼,折磨,骚扰 | |
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233
frenzy
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n.疯狂,狂热,极度的激动 | |
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234
muster
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v.集合,收集,鼓起,激起;n.集合,检阅,集合人员,点名册 | |
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235
harrying
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v.使苦恼( harry的现在分词 );不断烦扰;一再袭击;侵扰 | |
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236
metaphor
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n.隐喻,暗喻 | |
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237
crest
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n.顶点;饰章;羽冠;vt.达到顶点;vi.形成浪尖 | |
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238
tartly
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adv.辛辣地,刻薄地 | |
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239
placatory
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adj.安抚的,抚慰的 | |
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240
parlor
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n.店铺,营业室;会客室,客厅 | |
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241
frantic
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adj.狂乱的,错乱的,激昂的 | |
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242
buttresses
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n.扶壁,扶垛( buttress的名词复数 )v.用扶壁支撑,加固( buttress的第三人称单数 ) | |
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243
buttress
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n.支撑物;v.支持 | |
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244
concealment
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n.隐藏, 掩盖,隐瞒 | |
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245
mounds
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土堆,土丘( mound的名词复数 ); 一大堆 | |
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246
colossal
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adj.异常的,庞大的 | |
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247
jutted
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v.(使)突出( jut的过去式和过去分词 );伸出;(从…)突出;高出 | |
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248
cascade
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n.小瀑布,喷流;层叠;vi.成瀑布落下 | |
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249
innocence
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n.无罪;天真;无害 | |
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250
gasped
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v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 );喘息;倒抽气;很想要 | |
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251
munching
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v.用力咀嚼(某物),大嚼( munch的现在分词 ) | |
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252
mitten
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n.连指手套,露指手套 | |
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253
anguish
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n.(尤指心灵上的)极度痛苦,烦恼 | |
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254
placidly
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adv.平稳地,平静地 | |
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255
crouching
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v.屈膝,蹲伏( crouch的现在分词 ) | |
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256
desperately
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adv.极度渴望地,绝望地,孤注一掷地 | |
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257
lapsed
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adj.流失的,堕落的v.退步( lapse的过去式和过去分词 );陷入;倒退;丧失 | |
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258
stupor
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v.昏迷;不省人事 | |
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259
luminous
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adj.发光的,发亮的;光明的;明白易懂的;有启发的 | |
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260
slanting
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倾斜的,歪斜的 | |
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261
ascended
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v.上升,攀登( ascend的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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262
curiously
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adv.有求知欲地;好问地;奇特地 | |
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263
crouched
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v.屈膝,蹲伏( crouch的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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264
monstrous
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adj.巨大的;恐怖的;可耻的,丢脸的 | |
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265
jaws
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n.口部;嘴 | |
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266
gaped
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v.目瞪口呆地凝视( gape的过去式和过去分词 );张开,张大 | |
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267
weirdly
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古怪地 | |
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268
waned
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v.衰落( wane的过去式和过去分词 );(月)亏;变小;变暗淡 | |
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269
opalescent
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adj.乳色的,乳白的 | |
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270
haze
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n.霾,烟雾;懵懂,迷糊;vi.(over)变模糊 | |
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271
converged
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v.(线条、运动的物体等)会于一点( converge的过去式 );(趋于)相似或相同;人或车辆汇集;聚集 | |
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272
spores
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n.(细菌、苔藓、蕨类植物)孢子( spore的名词复数 )v.(细菌、苔藓、蕨类植物)孢子( spore的第三人称单数 ) | |
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273
ledge
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n.壁架,架状突出物;岩架,岩礁 | |
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274
cascading
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流注( cascade的现在分词 ); 大量落下; 大量垂悬; 梯流 | |
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275
minced
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v.切碎( mince的过去式和过去分词 );剁碎;绞碎;用绞肉机绞(食物,尤指肉) | |
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276
fatigue
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n.疲劳,劳累 | |
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277
salvation
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n.(尤指基督)救世,超度,拯救,解困 | |
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278
ponderous
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adj.沉重的,笨重的,(文章)冗长的 | |
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279
lodged
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v.存放( lodge的过去式和过去分词 );暂住;埋入;(权利、权威等)归属 | |
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280
thigh
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n.大腿;股骨 | |
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281
scoured
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走遍(某地)搜寻(人或物)( scour的过去式和过去分词 ); (用力)刷; 擦净; 擦亮 | |
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282
crested
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adj.有顶饰的,有纹章的,有冠毛的v.到达山顶(或浪峰)( crest的过去式和过去分词 );到达洪峰,达到顶点 | |
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283
deviate
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v.(from)背离,偏离 | |
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284
anguished
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adj.极其痛苦的v.使极度痛苦(anguish的过去式) | |
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285
softened
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(使)变软( soften的过去式和过去分词 ); 缓解打击; 缓和; 安慰 | |
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286
descended
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a.为...后裔的,出身于...的 | |
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287
steadily
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adv.稳定地;不变地;持续地 | |
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288
sparse
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adj.稀疏的,稀稀落落的,薄的 | |
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289
moor
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n.荒野,沼泽;vt.(使)停泊;vi.停泊 | |
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290
scattered
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adj.分散的,稀疏的;散步的;疏疏落落的 | |
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291
trickled
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v.滴( trickle的过去式和过去分词 );淌;使)慢慢走;缓慢移动 | |
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292
chamber
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n.房间,寝室;会议厅;议院;会所 | |
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293
cylinders
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n.圆筒( cylinder的名词复数 );圆柱;汽缸;(尤指用作容器的)圆筒状物 | |
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294
prospectors
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n.勘探者,探矿者( prospector的名词复数 ) | |
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295
randomly
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adv.随便地,未加计划地 | |
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296
tinged
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v.(使)发丁丁声( ting的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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297
streaking
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n.裸奔(指在公共场所裸体飞跑)v.快速移动( streak的现在分词 );使布满条纹 | |
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298
scouting
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守候活动,童子军的活动 | |
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299
afterward
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adv.后来;以后 | |
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300
perfectly
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adv.完美地,无可非议地,彻底地 | |
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301
unbearably
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adv.不能忍受地,无法容忍地;慌 | |
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302
throng
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n.人群,群众;v.拥挤,群集 | |
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303
brandished
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v.挥舞( brandish的过去式和过去分词 );炫耀 | |
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304
mazed
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迷惘的,困惑的 | |
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305
exalted
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adj.(地位等)高的,崇高的;尊贵的,高尚的 | |
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306
chaotic
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adj.混沌的,一片混乱的,一团糟的 | |
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307
mingled
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混合,混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 ); 混进,与…交往[联系] | |
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308
lull
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v.使安静,使入睡,缓和,哄骗;n.暂停,间歇 | |
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309
defenders
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n.防御者( defender的名词复数 );守卫者;保护者;辩护者 | |
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310
tactic
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n.战略,策略;adj.战术的,有策略的 | |
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311
exultation
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n.狂喜,得意 | |
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312
stinking
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adj.臭的,烂醉的,讨厌的v.散发出恶臭( stink的现在分词 );发臭味;名声臭;糟透 | |
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313
survivors
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幸存者,残存者,生还者( survivor的名词复数 ) | |
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314
flickering
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adj.闪烁的,摇曳的,一闪一闪的 | |
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315
sluggish
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adj.懒惰的,迟钝的,无精打采的 | |
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316
tumult
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n.喧哗;激动,混乱;吵闹 | |
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317
soothed
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v.安慰( soothe的过去式和过去分词 );抚慰;使舒服;减轻痛苦 | |
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318
plume
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n.羽毛;v.整理羽毛,骚首弄姿,用羽毛装饰 | |
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319
coalescing
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v.联合,合并( coalesce的现在分词 ) | |
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320
rubble
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n.(一堆)碎石,瓦砾 | |
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321
adversary
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adj.敌手,对手 | |
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322
haggled
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v.讨价还价( haggle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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323
stumps
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(被砍下的树的)树桩( stump的名词复数 ); 残肢; (板球三柱门的)柱; 残余部分 | |
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324
flailed
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v.鞭打( flail的过去式和过去分词 );用连枷脱粒;(臂或腿)无法控制地乱动;扫雷坦克 | |
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325
hurled
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v.猛投,用力掷( hurl的过去式和过去分词 );大声叫骂 | |
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326
muzzle
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n.鼻口部;口套;枪(炮)口;vt.使缄默 | |
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327
slayer
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n. 杀人者,凶手 | |
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328
collapsed
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adj.倒塌的 | |
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329
regained
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复得( regain的过去式和过去分词 ); 赢回; 重回; 复至某地 | |
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330
foretells
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v.预言,预示( foretell的第三人称单数 ) | |
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