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One could scarcely see the flight of the quarrel. - (Vagabonds of Gor, Chapter 13, Sentence #352)

"It is an attack pattern!" Could they not see that? Did they not understand what was happening? Could they not understand the rationale of that steadiness, the menace of the motionlessness of those great wings? Could they not see that what was approaching was in effect a smoothly gliding, incredibly stable, soaring firing platform? "Take cover!" I cried. The fellow on the observation platform, on the barge, watching the approach of the bird and rider, lowered his arms, puzzled. "Take cover!" I cried. One could scarcely see the flight of the quarrel. It was like a whisper of light, terribly quick, little more than something you are not sure you have really seen, then the bird had snapped its wings and was ascending. It then, in a time, disappeared, south. "He is dead," said a fellow from the deck of the captain's barge, where the lookout had fallen, the fins of a quarrel protruding from his breast. - (Vagabonds of Gor)