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Show 194 knew that; she was just causing him pain! He turned back. "Now just stop this, okay?" he said. "Just do it. Just get it over with. -Run. - R un off. -Immerse yourself in protective coloration and all that! Canmoflage." He remembered something that someone had recently said to him. "This is your £lace," he explained. "I'm 'placing' you. Assume your place." He began to run out of steam. "-Assume your rightful habits and distance." The marten started walking toward him. Hunt grabbed up the carrier and started running down the trail. The marten followed, loping, weaving trustfully along. Hunt bellowed back: "No! Go way!" the entire distance. And when he got to the car, he threw the carrier in and gunned the motor. The marten scampered. Hunt thought he saw startled eyes. "This is what you want. This is natural. This is the way it's supposed to be," Hunt called as he threw the car in reverse, averted any gaze, of the remarkable now-healthy animal, swung an arc onto the canyon road and sped away. He didn't go home. Somehow, he couldn't face that precise solitude. Something was missing. And so he drove downtown to Tucson. "I'm reintegrating myself with society," he told the dashboard. In the commerical blocks, the stores and malls were jammed with shoppers. Hunt took a half hour of it, bought some gifts, then trudged back to his car. In the tiered pavillion, almost chokingly dense with concrete, Hunt encountered a man he knew, a local filmmaker. "Hey! Hunt! Amazing! You been out of town?" the filmmaker asked. "Nobody's seen you." |