William sighed deeply. Donal took his hand from the brow. The eyes dropped closed; and William slept.

“Not your fault,” said Donal, absently, looking down at him. “Not your fault, but your nature. I should have known.” He turned a little unsteadily, to the others who were staring at him with new eyes. “He’ll be all right. Now, I want to get to my headquarters on Cassida. I can rest on the way. There’s a great deal to do.”

The trip from the Maran hospital where both Donal and William had been under observation, to Tomblecity on Cassida, passed like a dream for Donal. Waking or dreaming, he was still half in that ocean into which at Mor’s death he had finally stepped, and the dark waters of which would never entirely leave him now. It was to become finally a matter of living with it—this sea of understanding along the margin of which he had wandered all the young years of his life, and which no other human mind would be able to comprehend, no matter how long his explanation. He understood now why he understood—this much had the shock of Mor’s death brought him. He had been like any young animal, hesitant on the edge of the unknown, before his own uncertain desires and the sharp nudge of circumstance combined to tumble him headlong into it.

He had had to learn first to admit, then to live with, and finally to embrace his difference.

It had been necessary that what was uniquely Donal be threatened—first by the psychic shocks of the phase shift during the attack on Newton; and second by the manner of Mor’s dying, for which only he knew how truly he was responsible—in order that he be forced to fight for survival; and fighting, discover fang and use of claw. In that final battle he had seen himself at last, full-imaged in the unplumbed depths; and recognized himself at last for what he was—a recognition no one else would ever be able to make. Anea, alone, would know without needing to understand, what he was; it is Woman’s ancient heritage to appreciate without the need to know. Sayona, William, and a few such would half-recognize, but never understand. The rest of the race would never know.

And he—he himself, knowing and understanding, was like a man who could read, lifting the first small book from a library the shelves of which stretched off and away to infinity. A child in a taller land.

Anea, Sayona, Galt and the others came with him back to Tomblecity. He did not have to ask them to come with him. Now, they followed instinctively.

DONAL

The man was different.