But everywhere was an oppressiveness, a gathering together of hate, that was spiritual rather than material--as tangible as the latter and far, far more menacing! "They do not like to dance with the Shining One," was Rador's constant and only reply to my efforts to find the cause.
Once I had concrete evidence of the mood.

Glancing behind me, I saw a white, vengeful face peer from behind a tree-trunk, a hand lift, a shining dart speed from it straight toward Rador's back.

Instinctively I thrust him aside.

He turned upon me angrily.

I pointed to where the little missile lay, still quivering, on the ground.