"Well, if he's young and if he ... well, if you...."
"I'm not promised to you or anyone, and don't forget that. Besides, it doesn't have a thing to do with this." Diane peered expertly at the ground and soon picked up the stranger's spoor where he had come out of the stream himself—probably after bathing—and started out on his day's journey.
"Come on," she said and Starbuck could either forgo her company or follow her.
He followed.
The spoor became erratic. It wandered in circles, doubled back on itself, seemed either headed for no goal or incapable of reaching one. "He must have been hurt somehow," Diane mused. "He can't be very far."
"What are you so curious about?"
"Curious? I don't know. I'm just interested. I—Hello! Up there."
Diane sprinted up a short rise, leaving a surprised Starbuck pounding along several paces behind her. She found the man lying, face down near a large oak tree. Although it was comparatively cool, his body was drenched with perspiration. Diane shook her head sadly at the swollen joints and purple discolorations.
"They say it's a terrible thing," she told Starbuck as he panted up. "I don't remember; I was a baby."
Starbuck shuddered. "I remember. Watch out, don't go near him."