"I think we can deal with it if it does," Pritchard smiled. "And it sent these unpleasant things at you? How can it do that?" He shot an appraising glance around the torn and bloody meadow with its mounds of dead and dying things.
When he turned back the girl was weeping. Sobs she could not suppress were shaking those nut-brown, rounded shoulders. "It has some kind of mental control," came her muffled voice. "Besides, they fear It dreadfully. Oh, my people, my poor people."
"Well, now, look," soothed Pritchard, "it's all over now. You'd better come back with us. I guess you've learned you can't make people out of all these animals. Besides, you've got an interesting story to tell the Board—"
"D-damn the B-B-Board," she said a little unsteadily. "Then you'll take me with you?"
Pritchard smiled his broadest smile. "But of course!"
"Then let's hurry," she pleaded. "We have so little time."
"Why? What's the hurry?"
"The One! The One!" she burst out in sudden anxiety. "It'll come for us any minute, don't you understand?"
"Okay, okay," soothed Pritchard. He and the others were smiling at her excitement, when her equine suddenly reared so suddenly that she tumbled off. They started to her assistance, but she landed light as a cat on her feet. She stared wildly about her.
The equine uttered a growl and galloped off. The girl remained crouched, her eyes darting in every direction.