In the forests the loggers were tearing and slashing into all but the remnant of the 96 timber.
Sail had been lowered by slashing away the ropes that held the yards.
“You and Mattawa are about through with that slashing contract,” he said.
A thrust, a slashing blow, and the Drilgo was weltering in his life-blood.
An instant later he was locked in the clutch of the yelling, ...