If there were people here, they must think that he was one of the normal ones. That he could perceive. So they would keep quiet, because a person with perception couldn't possibly perceive a person who lacked it. They would remain motionless, hoping to stay hidden, waiting for him to leave so that they could flee deeper into the hills.
They couldn't know that he was one of them.
He felt helpless, suddenly. So near, so near—and yet he couldn't reach them. The people who lived here in the wild mountain gorges could elude him forever.
No motion. No sound. Only the embers, smoking....
"Listen," he called aloud. "Can you hear me?"
The canyon walls caught his voice, sent it echoing back, fainter and fainter. "... can you hear me can you hear me can you...."
No one answered.
"I'm your friend," he called. "I can't perceive. I'm one of you."
Over and over it echoed. "... one of you one of you one of you...."
"Answer me. I've run away from them too. Answer me!"