Tom's answer was slow and grave. "There is hope, yes. But we must be patient. Mentally we're far beyond ordinary people, but physically most of us are still children. We need time to grow, time to attain our full powers. And we need time to find each other and plan for the future. We can afford to wait, Fran. But above all we must be careful.
"Right now, though, you'd better rest. You don't want to put too much of a strain on yourself the very first time."
Her mind leaped in dismay. "But, Tom—will I be able to reach you again?"
"You can reach me any time you send out your thoughts to me, Fran. Don't worry about that."
"All right, Tom." Sudden shyness made her falter. "I'm glad ... glad I'm not alone."
"I understand.... Good night, Fran."
"Good night, Tom."
She lay still for a long while. She found she was tired, as though she had been under some exhausting nervous tension. But her pulse raced with excitement.
Carefully she went back over what Tom had told her, sifting the contents of his message for implications she might have missed. His warning became vivid in her mind, and abruptly, chillingly, she remembered the barking of dogs in the distance and men on horseback racing far-off across a field. She remembered a faint, triumphant baying and the muted thunder of guns. She remembered clutching in fright at her Mother's hand and seeing Big Luke ride back to them across the yard.