Or, have they? his mind asked, and answered: Unlikely. I gave strict orders I be told whenever word came, whatever it was. So Mary’s voice has not reached us since dusk. She’s lost, in danger. He forced himself to add: Or she’s dead. Forever stilled, that joyousness that ran from the radio to him especially? “Remember, Dan, we’ve got a date exactly three tendays from now. ‘Bye till then. I’ll be waiting.” No! Understanding it was useless, and thinking that he ought to get more rest, he left his bunk. The rug, a cerothere hide, felt scratchy under his bare feet, and the clay floor beyond was cold. The air did surround him with warmth and sound —trillings, croakings, the lapping of waves, and once from the woods a carnivore’s scream —but he hardly noticed. Paleness filled the windows. Otherwise his cabin was dark. He didn’t turn on a light to help him dress. When you spend a lot of time in the wilderness, you learn how to do things after sunset without a fluoropanel over your head.
