The clamp on Todd's wrist hauled him toward the oldest stake. Cava caught his belt before his shoulder struck the iron ring. His left hand hung palm-up inside the cuff, the Kavel half pressed into its crease. His right fist held the yoke tooth.
One cord ran from the cuff to the stake's lower ring. Six more ran from the stake into the settlement walls. The nearest bowed plaster beside the Clinic Five speaking tube, rattling its bracket every time the pull tightened.
Each jerk twisted the cuff around Todd's wrist. The clamp's open jaw pivoted until its teeth faced the crown cuts on Cava's shoulder. The cord dragged him toward her, and if the jaws caught that mark, the route would take a second address. Her ankle strap still tied her to the stake, though it had slipped to her heel. The damaged recovery jaw held the upper ring; Ruvan's red belt crossed the lower one.
"Put your heel under the ring, Todd, or this stake will drag you with it."
