Then he draws from us the memories of the darkness, and small lights flicker within the Klygha's mind.
He hurries to another chamber of his shell. We feel that he means to pursue the Terrans. He will ride to the sky on a wave of flame, as did they; and he will finally learn of their star by following their shell beyond the sky where—strange as it feels in his mind—there is nothing, except the stars.
He has forgotten us. We wait, and watch through the Klygha's mind as he touches the shining things within his shell that do for him what similar shining things do for the Terrans. Thus, we know as soon as he when he makes his mistake....
The Klygha's travelling-shell bursts through the surface he has spun above it to look like the side of a mountain; but it does not go straight and it does not go far. He has a terrible fear. We feel it with him, and try to bury ourselves in the sand.
There are noises and flares of light.
There is dizziness, the feeling of being tossed about by the currents created when the land shakes.
There is pain ... fear of death ... silence.
For a time, we see with the Klygha visions of the world from which he comes. It is confusing; for sometimes the Klygha is small and happy amid others of his breed, sometimes he is grown and talks to others equally, and sometimes we see him with beings and objects which are strangely wrong, though neither we nor the Klygha understand why.
Then these things fade away, and the Klygha returns to his mind—which is worse.
He frees himself of what holds him in place, scans the many shining things that tell him of his situation, and crawls outside to the ground. When he looks back, he sorrows ... deeply ... and we grieve with him since—though he now forgets us—he is still in our mind. We realize that he is unable to return to his world.