Pictures By Alan

A passage from Roger Zelazny's "Eye Of Cat" --

An old man with a stick came out from behind a cluster of rocks, where he might have been resting while watching the sheep. Limping, he followed a circuitous route which eventually brought him near.

"Ya'at'eeh," the man said, looking past him.

"Ya'at'eeh."

He asked the man to share his food, and they ate in silence for a time.

After a while, he asked the man's clan - it would have been impolite to ask his name - and learned that he was of the Rabbit Redwater People. He always found it easier to talk with the older people than the younger ones, those who lived far out rather than near the cities.

Eventually the man asked him his own clan. When he told him, the other grew silent. It is not good to talk of the dead.

"I am the last," he finally said, wanting the other to understand. "I've been away a long time."

"I know. I know the story of Star Tracker." He pushed down upon the crown of his wide-brimmed black hat as a gust of wind struck them. He looked back along the trail to the north. "Something follows you."

Still smiling at the way the old man had named him without naming him, he turned his head and looked in that direction. A large ball of tumbleweed bounced and rolled along the foot of the hill.

"Russian thistle," he said.

"No," the other replied. "Something more dangerous."

Despite his years, the fear of the chindi rose for a moment out of his youth. He shuddered beneath the touch of the wind.

"I see nothing else," he said.

"You have been gone for many years. Have you had an Enemyway?"

"No."

"Perhaps you should."

"Perhaps I will. You know a good Enemyway singer?"

"I am a singer."

"Perhaps I will see you again on this before long."

"I have heard that Star Tracker was a singer. Long ago."

"Yes."

"When you come by again we will talk more of these things."

"Yes."

The man looked back once more, along the trail.

"In the meantime," he said, "follow a twisted path."

"I will do that."