I was frightened, naturally. Frightened first at what might happen to her, but that was unnecessary; I don't think she would be in danger from any savage animal except possibly Man. I saw a Cooper's hawk slant down the invisible toward the swirl of color where she was dancing by herself. Presently she was drawing iridescent rings around him. Then, while he soared in smaller circles, I could not see her, but (maybe she felt my fright) she was again in front of me, pressing my forehead in the now familiar way.
I knew she was amused, and caught the idea that the hawk was a "lazy character." Not quite the way I'd describe Accipiter Cooperi, but it's all in the point of view. I believe she had been riding his back, no doubt with her telepathic hands on his predatory head.
Later I was frightened by the thought that she might not want to return to me. Could I compete with sunlight and open sky? The passage of that terror through me brought her swiftly back, and her hands said with great clarity: "Don't ever be afraid of anything. It isn't necessary for you."
Once this afternoon I was saddened by the realization that old Judy can take little part in what goes on now. I can well remember Judy running like the wind. The angel must have heard this thought in me, for she stood a long time beside Judy's drowsy head, while Judy's tail thumped cheerfully on the warm grass....
In the evening the angel made a heavy meal on two or three cake crumbs and another drop of sherry, and we had what was almost a sustained conversation. I will write it in that form this time, rather than grope for anything more exact.
I asked her: "How far away is your home?"
"My home is here."
"I meant the place your people came from."
"Ten light years."