, then checked himself, cursing himself
for his eager blundering. The girl stepped back once, quickly, like an
animal uncertain if it had been threatened. Nelson stepped back,
slowly, and spoke again. "I'm a waker, like you. You can tell by my
rags." It was true enough, but the girl only frowned. Her alertness
did not relax.

"I've been one for ten or twelve years. I escaped from a Commune in
Tannerville when I was in my senior year. They never even got me into
one of the coffins. As I said, I'm a waker." He spoke slowly, gently
and he hoped soothingly. "You don't have to be afraid of me. Now tell
me who you are."

The girl pushed a lock of almost yellow hair from her eyes with the
back of her hand, but it was her only show of carelessness. She was
strong and light. She was considerably smaller than he and could
probably handle herself as well as he in this country. The landscape
was thick with bushes, conifers and rocks. She would have no trouble
in getting away from him if he scared her; and he would scare her with
almost any sudden movement. It had been too long for Nelson to keep
track of when he had been accompanied by others and he hungered for
companionship; especially for a woman. The patrol that had captured
Sammy and Jeanne and the old man, Gardner, had also gotten Edna and
almost had gotten him. The fact that the girl was alone now more than
likely meant that she had no one either. They needed each other.
Nelson did not want to scare her off.

So he sat down on the ground with his back to a large rock and
rummaged in his pack to find a can.

"You hungry?" he asked looking up at her. He couldn't be sure at the
distance, but he thought that her eyes were brown. Brown, and huge;
like a colt's. He held the can out where she could see it. She
repeated the gesture of a while ago to brush back that same lock of
almost yellow hair, but there was a change in her face which he could
see even twenty feet away, and another, more subtle change about her
which he had to sense. "You're hungry, all right, aren't you?" he
said. He almost tossed her the can, but realized in time that she
would run. He considered for a moment and then held it out to her. She
focused her eyes on the can and for a moment Nelson might have been
able to reach her before she turned and ran; but he had better sense
than to try.

Instead, he watched the play of conflicting desires about the girl's
face and body. He could see the uncertainty and