"Run faster," Sherry implored her little sister as she ran hunched over along the tree-line carrying as many baskets as her arms could hold. "They're almost here."
The squat, squalid skye-knarr was floating slowly and serenely toward the family's barn, trailing hemp ropes that carried huge metal hooks about three feet from the ground. The ravers's bearded faces were visible from the ground as they leered over the gunwales, unnaturally quiet and menacing, as they searched the ground for movement.
Tracy carefully carried her share of the small, frightened fairies, doing her best not to joggle and bump their baskets.