t there was no sudden motion
anywhere, no indication that anyone was hiding nearby. Perhaps there was
nobody near. Perhaps whoever had built the fire had left it some time
before, and was miles away by now....

He didn't think so. He had a feeling that eyes were watching him. It was
a strange feeling, almost as if he could perceive. Wishful thinking, he
told himself. Unreal, untrue....

But _someone_ had been here. Someone had built the fire. And it was
probably, almost certainly, someone without perception. Someone like
himself.

His knees were shaking. His hands trembled, and sweat broke out on the
palms. Yet his thoughts seemed calm, icily calm. It was just a nervous
reaction, he knew that. A reaction to the sudden knowledge that people
_were_ here, out in these hills where he had searched for them but
never, deep down, expected to find them. They were probably watching him
right now, hidden up among the trees somewhere, afraid to move because
then he would see them and start out to capture them.

If there were people here, they must think that he was one of the normal
ones. That he could perceive. So they would keep quiet, because a person
with perception couldn't possibly perceive a person who lacked it. They
would remain motionless, hoping to stay hidden, waiting for him to leave
so that they could flee deeper into the hills.

They couldn't know that he was one of them.

He felt helpless, suddenly. So near, so near--and yet he couldn't reach
them. The people who lived here in the wild mountain gorges could elude
him forever.

No motion. No sound. Only the embers, smoking....

"Listen," he called aloud. "Can you hear me?"

The canyon walls caught his voice, sent it echoing back, fainter and
fainter. "... can you hear me can you hear me can you...."

No one answered.

"I'm your friend," he called. "I can't perceive. I'm one of you."

Over and over it echoed. "... one of you one of you one of you...."

"Answer me. I've run away from them too. Answer me!"

"Answer me answer me answer me...."

The echoes died away and it was quiet, too quiet. No sound. Even if they
heard him, they wouldn't answer.

He couldn't track them. If they had homes that were easy to find they
would have left them by now. He was helpless.

The heat from the fire rose about him, and he tasted smoke and coughed.
Nothing moved. Finally he stood up, turned away from the fire and walked
on past it, up the stream.

No one. No tr