IT WAS IN THE SECOND SPRING of Gal Dabara’s mid-winter summers that the Demons came.
Why they chose this season to fly in, lord only knows.
Straight over the steamy marshes they did hover and glide, looking for objects that remained as mysterious as their movements. Their strange silvery bodies glinted in bursts of iridescence as they bobbed about, leathery wings shimmering peculiarly in the haze.
We watched spellbound, breath bated, from our place of cover beneath the huge spread of split-leaved rainforest philodendrons that Flynn said had been introduced here by an earlier expedition from Earth . . .