Bryan felt a brief pain, a sensation as though electricity had surged through him. Then a complete terrible numbness gripped his body. He could not move. He could still see, could still think, but his muscles were fettered by an overwhelming paralysis.
He could still think—but it was difficult. His mind seemed detached and vague, and somehow touched by a pulse of thought not his own. Alien rhythms beat in it, formless, confused. And then—
"Leeta! This one resisted! He did not fear us as did the others."
Child-like, piping, filled with excitement. And yet through the thought ran an undercurrent of wistful yearning, of trembling hope.
Then another thought: "Take him, Leeta! He is brave."
"Patience, little ones." Strangely soft and clear, this thought, ringing like delicate silver chimes.
At the edge of his field of vision, through eyes he could no longer control, Bryan saw movement—the sweep and flutter of great wings. Then a slim figure moved into his sight, a figure in a simple draped garment, walking as lightly and gracefully as though on air.
There was danger in the presence of this girl—and yet somehow, Terry Bryan knew he must reach her....