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Menicius of Port Kar streaked past and as he did so his right hand flew forward and I saw Mip suddenly lose the reins of the tarn and clutch spasmodically at his back, as though trying to reach something. - (Assassin of Gor, Chapter 22, Sentence #197)

"Old Warrior, fly!" he cried. I saw Green Ubar begin then to hold his lead, his wings striking with the accelerating, timed frenzy of the racing tarn, each stroke seeming to carry him swifter and farther than the last. Then, to my horror, I saw the wings miss their beat and the bird screamed in pain, and began to turn in the air, Mip spinning with the bird, trying to control it. Menicius of Port Kar streaked past and as he did so his right hand flew forward and I saw Mip suddenly lose the reins of the tarn and clutch spasmodically at his back, as though trying to reach something. Mip was thrown back in the two thin safety straps of the racing saddle and then sagged in the saddle, leaning to one side. I clutched the arm of the crossbowman. The tarn of the Blues, and then of the Silvers, and then of the Reds flashed past the reeling tarn and its rider. - (Assassin of Gor)