The tendrils waved out, felt of it, thrust themselves down through the wide collar of the shirt.

The floating form passed higher, over the edge of the Disk; lay high beside the right star point of the rayed shape to which Ruth had been passing when Ventnor's shot brought the tragedy upon us.

I saw other tentacles whip forth, examine, caress.
Then down the body swung, was borne through air, laid gently at our feet.
"He is not--dead," it was Norhala beside me; she lifted Ruth's face from Drake's breast.

"He will not die.

It may be he will walk again.