It was morning when he awakened, bright sunlight streaming into his eyes. That was not the reason his head hurt, though he could be thankful the man or men had used a gas pellet instead of a projectile. Whoever he or they were.
He got up and staggered toward the ship. A few steps were all he took. The ship wasn't there. He leaned against a tree and looked wildly around. The plant was gone too.
Shakily he fumbled for a cigarette. Smoke didn't help much. They had taken the plant aboard while he was unconscious. They had left him alone on an uninhabited planet.
A pretty planet and a useless one. No ship ever stopped here except to revive a plant, and that wouldn't happen often. It would be several lifetimes before another ship came, if one ever did.
He stared miserably into the bright blue distance and thrust his hands into his jacket, and made a discovery. They'd left him a gun, at least, and ammunition. He'd be able to keep himself alive at a minimum level.
There was a whistle in the distance. His head came up. He wasn't alone. Larienne?
It couldn't be. From the direction of the sound, if it was Larienne, she was hiding in a nearby tree. But Larienne didn't like trees.
"Richel Alsint," said a loud voice. Behind him this time.
He turned around. There was no one there. Nothing but a red bird sitting on a branch. He started. The same red bird that had flown mysteriously in and out of his life. If it weren't for that creature, he'd be safely on the ship. He raised the gun.