THEY set out early the next morning. The last night had passed very much the same as the previous: despite Stephanie’s obvious admiration for Mark, she refused to let him share her bed. “I said No yesterday, and I still mean No. You understand?” Mark had ac­quiesced, reluctantly but not over-discouraged. He thought he saw a chink in the armour…!

The innkeeper had helpfully given them directions for finding the road to Kamach. It was warm at sunny at present, but they had been warned that the weather would soon turn much colder. This did not worry them: their horses had evidently benefited from the day’s rest and were eager for the journey.

Nothing of interest occurred during the day’s ride. For a while they urged their horses into a fast trot, but they made sure to rest them several times during the day. At first the road was well-made and passed through settled land with many farms. They took their lunch in the shelter of a large haystack—while the horses munched some of the hay for good measure. There were many streams for them to draw water. But when they had covered about fifteen miles, the landscape changed: the farms became more sparse and there were more forested areas interspersed with rocky and hilly stretches, and the road became more rough. Their pace inevitably slowed down, and daylight was now failing. They had not passed any farm or village where they might seek a bed for the night, so they decided to camp.

After tethering the horses where they could conveniently graze, they pitched their tent on a grassy spot sheltered between some large boulders. It seemed cosy enough: they were able to gather twigs and light a fire, and share a hot supper.

Just as they were clearing up after their meal, they heard a low, ominous growl nearby. The horses were startled, neighed, and reared up, dragging at their tethers, but luckily neither rope gave way. Mark immediately sprang up and attempted to calm the horses, with some difficulty. Then he looked around, and spotted two luminous eyes surveying them from the top of a boulder a short distance away.

“Don’t be alarmed, Stephanie,” he whispered, as he grabbed a bow and some arrows. “I think it’s a cougar. A big cat. They don’t usually attack people or large animals, but best to be careful.” Stephanie jumped up in some alarm and clung to Mark in her fright. Mark continued, “Best would be to climb on one of these boulders, shout and wave our arms, to frighten it off. Whatever you do, don’t run away, it might give chase. And I doubt if the bow will be effective.”

The cougar was coming closer now, and they could make out the dark sleek shape of its body in the increasing gloom. Stephanie did as Mark had bid her: they both climbed the boulder and waved their arms frantically and shouted. The cougar was very close now, and crouching, as if it were preparing to spring. They yelled even louder, and jumped up and down on the rock.

At last, after a minute’s stand-off, to their immense relief the cougar turned away from them with a snarl, and slunk off between the boulders. In a minute or two it had vanished into the gloom. The horses, too, seemed to have sensed that the danger was past: both of them calmed down when Stephanie and Mark comforted them.

“That was close!” muttered Mark. “We sometimes used to get cougars, back at the farm where I lived: occasionally one would come and take one of our calves. But I never heard of one attacking a person: they’re usually more frightened of us than we are of them. But you have to be careful. Of course, there’s always the risk that it might be a Deviant, with different instincts from a normal cougar. I’ve heard that some large animals mutate into man-eaters…”

“Oh, Mark! You must be awfully brave! But we oughtn’t to have camped here,” cried Stephanie. “Should we move on?”

“We could pack up and press on in the dark,” replied Mark, “but I’d advise not. I think we’ll be safe enough here. The horses will surely alert us if the cat returns. It’ll probably find some more suitable prey, like a deer; in which case it won’t be bothered with us at all.”

Stephanie was doubtful, but she was learning to trust Mark on these matters. He was clearly an experienced countryman, knowledgeable about the ways of these wild parts. So they crept into their tent and wrapped themselves in their blankets. Stephanie snuggled up to Mark and put her arms around him, and kissed him fervently. Mark kissed her back, and slipped an exploratory hand under her blouse. She immediately slapped it and he withdrew, in some confusion.

“Naughty!” hissed Stephanie. “Remember what I told you. I still haven’t made up my mind about you, so don’t be silly…” But he could sense that she was grinning…

They were soon asleep. Some time during the night they were awakened by a horse’s whinny: Mark at once crept out with the bow, though there was little chance of seeing a target to shoot at in the dark; the moon had set by now. But he could see no sign of the cougar, and the horses seemed to have calmed down. Probably a passing fox, he thought, and he was able to reassure Stephanie.

When they next woke it was just after dawn, and the horses were still grazing quite contentedly. They were able to wash at a nearby stream and made a hurried breakfast: then they packed and set off again. The road was getting steadily rougher, with more hills to climb, so their progress was slow. They had covered only about twelve miles by mid-afternoon, as they topped a high ridge with jagged rocks and the occasional pine along its crest. They gazed ahead and to their relief saw that the road descended into a broad valley with scattered houses, and there appeared to be a village a few miles ahead. They hastened forward and urged the horses into a trot again. It was just beginning to get dark as they entered the village.

They could see no sign of an inn, so they enquired at a house by the roadside. “No, sorry, dears, there’s no inn here,” said a short plump woman who answered the door. “But you could try one of the farms around here, they sometimes take travellers in, for a consideration. Try that one, over there,” she continued, pointing to a farm a short way back along the road, but stood some distance away from the road itself.

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So they picked their way across the fields to the farm the woman had indicated, and tentatively knocked. The door was answered by an equally short and plump woman, with a good-natured face and bright auburn hair tied up in a bun, with two small children peeping shyly from behind her skirt. As soon as she learned their needs, she smiled.

“Yes, I can indeed put the two of you up, and we can take care of the horses. Here, Bob!” she shouted across the yard, and a lad came running and took charge of the horses. “And you can have supper with us too. How does five dollars sound to you?” she continued. Mark and Stephanie at once agreed, introduced themselves, and the woman ushered them into the house, telling them her name was Brenda, and her husband, who owned the farm, was Phil. She showed them to a warm and snug little room with a large bed, then told them to be sure to come to the kitchen in ten minutes, as supper was about to be served.

When they arrived at the kitchen, there were quite a number of people gathered at table. As well as Brenda and Phil and their children, there were three or four farm hands and their wives, and a couple of dairymaids. The meal, when it came, consisted of pork with greens and generous helpings of potatoes: the best meal Mark and Stephanie had enjoyed since they left Waknuk. And the conversation was lively, too: most of the talk was about farm matters, understand­ably. Although Stephanie, not being brought up a farm-girl, was a bit left behind by the talk, Mark joined in eagerly and entertained them with anecdotes about the happenings on his home farm, way out west and close to the Wild Country. He also told them about their close encounter with the cougar.

“Yes, we do get the big cats around here—not very often though. We do have to keep a watch on the livestock,” commented Phil, the farmer. “You did well to scare yours off though: I guess you’ve had practice, Mark?” Mark nodded.

“So you’d be making for Kentak, I reckon?” continued Phil.

“No,” put in Stephanie. “We’re going the other way. We’ve just come from Kentak: we’re heading to Kamach to the north of here. Visiting relatives there. I trust we’re still on the right road?”

“Yes you are, but it’s a rough road. Take you two more days, I reckon. Well, best of luck with your travels.”

When the meal was over, and the farm workers had departed, Mark and Stephanie expressed a desire to return to their room. They were just settling in, and Stephanie had flung herself contentedly down on the bed, when there came a tap on the door.

“Come in,” called Mark, automatically. “Mark!” hissed Stephanie, in some alarm. Mark wheeled round. Stephanie was lying on the bed, and had kicked off her shoes. She was frozen for a few vital seconds, then she frantically tried to twist herself round and lower her legs on the far side of the bed.

But it was too late: the door was open and Brenda had stepped into the room, her arms full. “I just thought I’d bring you a couple extra blankets: it’s going to be a chilly—” She broke off: Mark had tried to divert her attention, but she’d noticed his uneasiness and glanced at Stephanie struggling on the bed. Her expression changed in an instant.

“But you’re… But you’re… you’re one of them? You’re a Bla—”

“Please don’t call me that,” interrupted Stephanie, sitting up. “Yes, I’m a Deviant. I’m not quite in the True Image, whatever that is. So what are you going to do?” Memories came floating back: a wet footprint on the flat stone by the river; Alan Ervin appearing uncalled-for; the fight between the two boys; all that happened after…

“But I thought you people weren’t humans. That you didn’t have souls,” protested Brenda, hesitantly, almost to herself. “You looked so human to me, I never thought…”

“I feel as much a human as you are. I don’t quite know what a soul is, but if there are such things, I’m quite sure I have one too.”

“Well I never!” exclaimed Brenda. “But how is it you weren’t sent to the Fringes, like the others? Even one of my babies…” and she paused, briefly wiping away a tear on her apron. “Were you hidden away all this time?”

“I have been to the F—; to that place,” put in Stephanie, unwilling to say the word. “I was there for seven years. It was a dreadful time. But I got away.”

“I’ve seen Fringes people,” said Brenda. “They came and raided the village here, but they were driven off. They were horrid people: dirty and ragged, with ugly faces, behaving almost like animals. But they didn’t look very Deviational.”

“No, they wouldn’t have. It’s nearly always something small: a tiny difference, like a toe. Just ugly—and aggressive.”

“But you’re not ugly. I think you’re quite a beauty. I was just saying to Phil, I think Mark’s a jolly lucky man.” Mark blushed, but did not deign to correct her assumption.

“I was ugly, during my time back there,” continued Stephanie. “But since I got out, I’ve been looking after myself better. So, what are you going to do?”

“No—it’s impossible. The Law says I must, but I can’t turn you in. You’re such a nice couple, I couldn’t have wished for better guests. If you’ve lived as a norm for so long, you can continue living as a norm, I reckon. It was only a ‘tiny difference’ with my baby too: just part of his left ear missing. And they took him away. How I cried and cried, for weeks!” Brenda could not suppress a few sobs even now, as she said this. “But you’ve seen my two girls: little dears aren’t they?—and they passed the test, they came after my son and softened the blow, a sort of ‘consolation prize’ I suppose.

“But don’t breathe a word of this, not to anyone else here. I shan’t even tell Phil. And be careful. One glimpse is enough.” She put the blankets on the bed and left, bidding them good-night.

They lay awake for a long while. Two narrow escapes in two nights!—how much longer would their luck hold? Mark was as contrite as anything; he’d been so careless, would Stephanie ever forgive him? She had stopped his protestations with a kiss as usual, then lay back, staring out of the window at the full moon, clearly thinking about something. At length she appeared decided. She reached down for the hem of her nightgown and pulled it up over her head.

“Yes, I do love you, Mark,” she whispered. “And yes, I will marry you. We won’t have a family, but we’ll have each other—for as long as we live. What more could we ask?” She wrapped herself around Mark…

It was the best moment of Mark’s life. After their initial passion had been satisfied, they both lay back and fell asleep almost at once.