She was crying and he had rarely seen her cry. "Did it scratch you?"
"No. But it feared me, and hated me," she said. "Because it knew I'm alien."
Kirk said, "Oh, rot. The wretched beast is just afraid of strangers."
"It wasn't afraid of you. It sensed that I'm different—"
He put his arm around her, mentally cursing Tom. Then, as he wrathfully looked after the cat, Kirk stiffened.
Tom had started across the lawn toward the dark brush nearby. But the cat had stopped. And, as Kirk looked, Tom suddenly emitted a hiss and recoiled. It went away from the dark clumps, in long swift leaps.
Kirk's thoughts raced. The cat had recoiled from that brush, exactly as it had recoiled from Lyllin. For the same reason? Because someone alien, not of Earth, was in those shadows? He thought he could hear a slight sound, and his muscles suddenly strung tight. Ferdias' agent wouldn't approach so secretly. Non-Earthmen skulking in those shadows meant only one thing.
He said, "Come on in the house and forget it, Lyllin. I could stand another drink—"
But instantly, when inside the house, Kirk made a lunge toward the nearest bedroom and grabbed for the blankets there. He tossed one of the blankets to Lyllin with frantic speed.
"Wrap it around your head—quick!"