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He
stepped
out
onto
the
windward
face
of
the
dune
,
following
the
curve
of
it
,
moved
with
a
dragging
pace
.
Jessica
studied
his
progress
for
ten
steps
,
followed
,
imitating
him
.
She
saw
the
sense
of
it
:
they
must
sound
like
the
natural
shifting
of
sand
.
.
.
like
the
wind
.
But
muscles
protested
this
unnatural
,
broken
pattern
:
Step
.
.
.
drag
.
.
.
drag
.
.
.
step
.
.
.
step
.
.
.
wait
.
.
.
drag
.
.
.
step
.
.
.
Time
stretched
out
around
them
.
The
rock
face
ahead
seemed
to
grow
no
nearer
.
The
one
behind
still
towered
high
.
“
Lump
!
Lump
!
Lump
!
Lump
!
”
It
was
a
drumming
from
the
cliff
behind
.
“
The
thumper
,
”
Paul
hissed
.
Its
pounding
continued
and
the
found
difficulty
avoiding
the
rhythm
of
it
in
their
stride
.
“
Lump
.
.
.
lump
.
.
.
lump
.
.
.
lump
.
.
.
.
”
They
moved
in
a
moonlit
bowl
punctured
by
that
hollowed
thumping
.
Down
and
up
through
spilling
dunes
:
step
.
.
.
drag
.
.
.
wait
.
.
.
step
.
.
.
.
Across
pea
sand
that
rolled
under
their
feet
:
drag
.
.
.
wait
.
.
.
step
.
.
.
.
