She shot him a furious glance, but didn't deny it. They sat for a long
time in silence. Morgan lowered the shotgun, then laid it aside.
"Thanks," she murmured, and looked really grateful.
But Morgan was staring thoughtfully at the oldster. "Your dogs ever
tree a panther?"
"Yas, _suh_, they're good at that!" He grinned and waggled his head.
"Many panthers in the swamp?"
"Lo'dy, yes--" He paused. His eyes widened slightly.
Both of them looked suddenly at the girl. Her eyebrows arched, her
mouth flew open. She put a frightened hand to her throat.
"Oh _no_! Oh God, _nooo_!" she shrilled.
Morgan glanced at the window, sighed, and stood up.
"It's getting light outside. We better hunt some food."
Morgan and the old man, whose name was Hanson, went out to prowl along
the outskirts of the swamp. They returned at mid-morning with a string
of perch, a rabbit, and a heart of swamp cabbage. The girl cooked the
meal in silence, scarcely looking at them. Her face was sullen, angry.
Morgan turned while he was eating and saw her staring contemplatively
at the back of his neck--where the Oren-sting was usually planted.
"Nobody's going to force you into anything, Shera," he said quietly.
"We won't mention it again."
She said nothing, but stopped glaring at him. He wondered how much the
Oren organ had affected her personality.
"Do you still feel the same--as you did a year ago?" he asked her.
"Any difference? Any loss of memory? Loss of function?"
"No."
"That means the alien organ exactly duplicates the neural circuits it
supplants."
"So?"
"So the rapport is the only special feature. Without it, you're
apparently still human."
"Thanks." It was a bitter, acid tone.
"I can't understand why the cat-business caused ... unless ... rapport
is achieved by a sort of resonance--and you couldn't get it with a cat
and with humans too--"
"Drop it, will you!" She turned and stalked out of the shanty. At the
doorway, she broke into a run.
Morgan looked at Hanson. Hanson waggled his head and grinned ruefully.
"That--uh--lady likes you, suh."
Morgan snorted and went to the door. She was just disappearing into a
tangle of weeds that had once been an orange grove. He set off after
her at a quick trot. "Shera, wait--"
He caught up with her at the edge of the swamp, where she was backing
quickly away from a coiled water-moccasin. He tossed a stick at the
snake, and it slithered into the shallow water. Then he caught her
arms, and she whirled to face him with defiant eyes.
"You think I'm a--a--"
"I don't."
"You act like I'm barely human."
"I didn't mean it that way--"
"You don't even trust me, and you want me to--"
"I _don't_."
"Trust me." She nodded.
"I do."