Free Maeve by Jo Clayton

speed of thought. Not needing to hold because the damage was done instantly when the two lines touched.
    There was a spectacular crashing and roaring behind her as she slid recklessly down the trunk in a controlled fall. Small fragments of metal came pattering through the canopy of leaves. One struck her on the shoulder, drawing blood before she brushed it away. The jarring music went on as she ran past the boys, glaring at them. The music cut off as Gwynnor dropped the flute, grinning fiercely at her. Aleytys sighed and trotted off toward the village.
    Running easily, feet nearly silent on the leaf-padded ground, Gwynnor and Ghastay caught up with her. Once again, Aleytys felt a small triumph as she felt the growing ties between the two boys.
    Then Tipylexne came to join them, his hunters silent and disappointed behind him.
    â€œThey didn’t come?” Aleytys slowed to a walk.
    â€œNot this time.” Then he grunted with satisfaction. “The machine has stopped. You killed it.”
    She shook her head. “No. They’ll fix what I did.”
    â€œYou’ll stop it again?”
    â€œI’ll stop it again.”
    â€œThey’ll begin to be afraid?”
    â€œI think so. I don’t know. Depends on their leaders. But frightened men often do stupid things. You’ll have to take care.”
    â€œAt least that thing will eat no more trees.”

Chapter VIII
    Nine days later, wisps of smoke drifted in slow circles over the harvester as it lay in its own debris like a squashed bug. Armored men climbed down from the crawler and formed a circle, facing the sharp-cut perimeter of the forest, energy rifles held at ready.
    Aleytys swung down to the closest limb and leaned out to nod at Gwynnor. He jumped up and ran off, Ghastay following close behind. When they were safely out of sight, she pulled herself back up until she was hidden by thick patches of leaves.
    As soon as the eerie tune died, the leader of the guards barked a command and led his men at a trot into the forest. Hidden above their heads, Aleytys watched them tramp past, moving with a heavy efficiency she hadn’t expected from the city bred. A few meters into the green gloom they broke into twos. Swinging energy rifles through fan-shaped spaces, the pairs trotted off in the beginnings of concentric circles with the collapsed harvester as their common center.
    â€œTime to shift out of here, Lee.” Shadith’s purple eyes snapped with excitement. “They’ve got heat-seekers mounted on those guns. Thank god, they haven’t thought to look over their heads.”
    Aleytys slid down the trunk again until she was hanging from the lowest limb. Then she dropped to the forest floor and ran lightly on the camouflaged path that led to the cludair village.
    Perched in an offshoot of the vineway, Gwynnor watched her until the last bright gleam of her hair vanished. Ghastay pulled him around and jerked a double-jointed thumb after the thudding guards. “Come on. I want to watch the hunters.”
    Gwynnor hesitated. “Aleytys told us to get back to the village.”
    â€œWe will,” Ghastay said impatiently. He tugged at Gwynnor’s arm. “Come on, friend. We’re missing all the fun.”
    Uneasy but intrigued, the plainsboy followed the forest boy down the nearest tree and through the gloom under the canopy, the two of them sliding through brush like a mottled green-brown shadow in company with a silvery ghost.
    They flitted through the brush and caught up with two guards. The men in the silvery, flexible armor, alien, like mobile units of the dead machine, ran lightly, absurdly lightly, with power-assisted legs to a faint sweet hum of machine noise—man-machines under the silent, aloof trees. One rested a gun lightly on a forearm, ready to fire at the slightest sign of life while the other watched the readout of the heat-seeker, fanning the directional instrument in a wide arc before him.