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It would be in a sense a race, one between the fangs of sleen, or such, one supposes, and the large, sawdust-littered, gently concave, surface of an auction block. - (Players of Gor, Chapter 9, Sentence #117)

I wondered if they had speculated on how long she might last, or how far she might get. I thought of vulos swarming forth to peck up scattered feed, of urts in the canals of Port Kar nosing swiftly toward emptied garbage, of sharks following a galley, of a larl lifting its head, to test the night air, of a sleen emerging from its burrow, silent, serpentine, hungry, intent. Something such as she, exposed, vulnerable, defenseless, afoot, alone, trekking broad fields, wandering overland, is not likely on Gor to remain long at large; it cries out for the taking. It would be in a sense a race, one between the fangs of sleen, or such, one supposes, and the large, sawdust-littered, gently concave, surface of an auction block. She had not been taken by sleen. Sleen, of course, prefer tabuk, or wild verr. She had been taken by men. - (Players of Gor)