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To the crowd's astonishment, but not to mine, he wheeled his tarn, a rare, gloriously plumaged jungle tarn from the tropical reaches of the Cartius, to block the first of the right center rings. - (Assassin of Gor, Chapter 22, Sentence #431)

Shortly before the first circuit of the track had been made I swept past the last bird, a nonfaction bird, whose rider, caught unaware, threw a wild glance over his shoulder as I, a shadow upon a flying shadow, hurtled by over his head and to the left. There was a roar from the crowd. This warned the rider of the eighth bird, a Gold, and he, bent low in the saddle, looked behind him to see, piercing the rings, eyes blazing, wings snapping, the great black tarn. To the crowd's astonishment, but not to mine, he wheeled his tarn, a rare, gloriously plumaged jungle tarn from the tropical reaches of the Cartius, to block the first of the right center rings. The bird, beautiful, fierce, talons lifted, wings beating, hanging almost motionless before the ring, faced us. My tarn struck him like a screaming saber of black lightning flashing through the ring. I did not look back. - (Assassin of Gor)