ere were several of us then. There had
been families of us in my father's time, and in his father's time, and
maybe before that even. But when I was a girl there was only my father
and my mother and another wife of my father's, and a lot of
children...."

She paused, still looking toward the west, facing a horizon she could no
longer see. "The normal ones came. We'd hidden from them before. But
this time we had no chance to hide. I was hunting, with the boy who was
my father's nephew.

"They surrounded the hut. They didn't make any sound. They don't have
to. I was in the forest when I heard my mother scream."

"Did they kill her?" Eric cried out. "They wouldn't do that."

"No, they didn't kill any of them. They dragged them off to the aircars,
all of them. My father, my mother and the other woman, the children. We
watched from the trees and saw them dragged off, tied with ropes, like
wild animals. The cars flew away. Our people never came back."

She stopped, sunken in revery. Mag took up the story. Her voice was
matter-of-fact, completely casual about those long ago events.

"A bear killed my father. That was after we came back here. Nell was
sick. I did the hunting. We almost starved, for a while, but there's
lots of game in the hills. It's a good life here. But I've been sorry
for Lisa. She's a woman now. She needs a man. I'm glad you came. I would
have hated to send her out looking for a normal one."

"But--" Eric stopped, his head whirling. He didn't know what to say.
Anything at all would sound wrong, cruel.

"It's dangerous," Mag went on, "taking up with the normals. They think
it's wrong. They think we're animals. One of us has to pick a man who's
stupid--a farmer, maybe--and even then it's like being a pet. A beast."

It took a moment for Eric to realize what she was saying, and when he
did realize, the thought horrified him.

"Lisa's father was stupid," Mag said. "He took me in when I came down
from the hills. He didn't send for the others. Not then. He kept me and
fed me and treated me kindly, and I thought I was safe. I thought our
kind and theirs could live together."

She laughed. Deep, bitter lines creased her mouth. "A week later the
aircar came. They sneaked up to the garden where I was. He was with
them. He was leading them."

She laughed again. "Their kindness means nothing. Their love means
nothing. To them, we're animals."

The old woman, Nell, rocked back and forth, her face still in