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I hoped it might rain again, as that would wash scent away, clearing it from rocks and soil, obliterating trails. - (Smugglers of Gor, Chapter 25, Sentence #159)

It has its thousand rises and falls, its heights and valleys, its fallen timbers and rotting wood, its scarred, blackened trunks and scorched, lightning-fired wastes, its scattered boulders, its bare places, its flowered meadows and blossoming thickets, its crags and cliffs, its rills, and streams and rivers, its rock-cupped ponds, its galleries of tall trees with quiet aisles of leaves between them, its jumbled barriers of nigh- impenetrable brush, its innumerable geodesics, and textures. There are countries within it. There had been much rain of late. I hoped it might rain again, as that would wash scent away, clearing it from rocks and soil, obliterating trails. I had no idea where I was, save that I was clearly north of the Alexandra. I saw a tabuk, small, graceful, single-horned, here in the woods brown pelted, startled, lift its head from a water-filled declivity, and dart away. They are lovely animals, round-eyed, and alert. - (Smugglers of Gor)