"Susan!" I coaxed her, yet again, and she made no answer but tried to slip sidewise around me. I moved and headed her off, and she growled—actually growled, like a savage dog.
With my free hand I clutched her shoulder. Under my fingers her flesh was as taut as wire fabric. Then, suddenly, it relaxed into human tissue again, and she was standing straight. Her eyes had lost their weird light, they showed only dark and frightened.
"Talbot," she stammered. "Wh—what have I been doing?"
"Nothing, my dear," I comforted her. "It was nothing that we weren't able to fight back."
From the woods behind me came a throttling yelp, as of some hungry thing robbed of prey within its very grasp. Susan swayed, seemed about to drop, and I caught her quickly in my arms. Holding her thus, I turned my head and laughed over my shoulder.
"Another score against you!" I jeered at my enemy. "You didn't get her, not with all your filthy enchantments!"
Susan was beginning to cry, and I half led, half carried her back to the fireside. At my gesture she sat on her cloak again, as tractable as a child who repents of rebellion and tries to be obedient.
There were no more sounds from the timber. I could feel an emptiness there, as if the monster had slunk away, baffled.
13. "Light's Our Best Weapon."