he sensed neither pain nor menace from them.

Songeen bent over him. Her arm supported him in sitting position. It was
unnecessary, but the sensation of contact was pleasant. He yielded to
her ministrations and looked about. It was still the forest,
crystalline, murmurous--but now muted. The same glary, unpleasant light
beat down from the same impossible sky. Storming, eery colors flowed
infinite mutations of form through the crystal spectres of the maze. And
the tinkle of myriad glass wind bells held a maddening overtone.

He had thought, somehow, that it would be different. That it would have
changed, subtly, as had Songeen. But from a brief survey, nothing had
changed. The tumult had faded, become bearable--but identity remained.

Disappointed, he rose slowly, and felt her strong arm clasp about him.
He felt clumsy, off-balance, but not weak. If anything, he was stronger.
Stronger, and more cleanly, clearly alive than he had felt before.

"Come," urged Songeen. "I will take you back to the portal."

"Back--to that?"

Newlin struggled with the futility of words. He was not sure what he
wanted, let alone what he wanted to say. That insinuating crystalline
clatter got inside his brain, scattered thought.

Songeen caught a stirring of rebellion in him and sensed his mental
confusion.

"Don't fear the hunters," she said. "There are other doorways, and you
can issue onto some other planet, if you wish. Try not to think, or even
feel."

Her voice penetrated the uproar of his mind, stilling troubled waters,
blanketing other sounds. For seconds, it seemed to elevate him to some
remote, lofty plane where life was serene, uncomplicated. Detached, he
drifted with his own alien thoughts. Through senses other than visual,
he watched his stumbling progress at her side as the girl threaded a
pathway through the maze. Through senses not normally his own, he was
aware of the utter strangeness behind this forest and its crystalline
mysteries. He recognized the girl as part of the strangeness.

Dimly, he sensed some cosmic reluctance in himself, and was disturbed by
his trend of thought. Faintly, he was aware of bodily movement and the
crowding feel of shadowy aisles about him. But he was more aware of the
girl, of her physical presence, and of the unrest she inspired in him.

Songeen! He had known many women on many, strange worlds. But none like
this, none ever so strange, so wonderful, so terrifying. He had wanted
her, y