"Answer me answer me answer me...."
The echoes died away and it was quiet, too quiet. No sound. Even if they heard him, they wouldn't answer.
He couldn't track them. If they had homes that were easy to find they would have left them by now. He was helpless.
The heat from the fire rose about him, and he tasted smoke and coughed. Nothing moved. Finally he stood up, turned away from the fire and walked on past it, up the stream.
No one. No tracks. No sign. Only the feeling that other eyes watched him as he walked along, other ears listened for the sound of his passing.
He turned back, retraced his steps to the fire. The embers had blackened. The wisp of smoke that curled upward was very thin now. Otherwise everything was the same as it had been.
He couldn't give up and fly back to the museum. If he did he might never find them again. But even if he didn't, he might never find them.
"Listen!" He screamed the word, so loudly that they could have heard it miles away. "I'm one of you. I can't perceive. Believe me! You've got to believe me!"
"Believe me believe me believe me...."
Nothing. The tension went out of him suddenly and he began to tremble again, and his throat choked up, wanting to cry. He stumbled away from the embers, back in the direction of the aircar.