I made good progress that night and early the next morning. Toward dawn I felt the presence of a night probe and flattened myself on the ground just before its faint beam knifed over me. I judged the direction it came from and adjusted accordingly when it felt safe to continue. I had sensed the signal before it appeared. That was a good sign.

There was still perhaps an hour before light, when I encountered what looked liked the dark outline of a badly constructed outbuilding. It was a tall rock formation that narrowed at the top. I was debating with myself whether to continue in the hope that I would find another formation before light when I heard the barely audible but unmistakable whistled signal and response of a hunting party. I scurried into the first opening I saw, a cranny that appeared to offer enough invisibility in the predawn darkness. I entered and curled very quietly against the dead end. Above me was a slight overhang, and to my left the rock was depressed just enough for me to conceal most of my torso. My legs, however, no matter how tightly I pulled them against me, were visible to anyone standing outside and looking into the cranny. I also knew that the sun rose on the other side of the rock, and that this position would become untenable when it crossed over to my side and exposed me. Either I would be easily spotted or, if I weren’t, baked to death.

As the sun came up, the otherworldly beauty of the Wilderness was gradually revealed by each succeeding gradation of light. I was deeply moved by the presence of so much color in what had initially looked like a dead world to me. Beginning with a cold pale gray, the dawn flowed through a range of blues and into the softest rose and pink and then to a hot red that soon gave way to the merciless bleached bone‑white of midday. I was able to see how much territory I had covered the previous night.

Unfortunately, the hunting party I had overheard decided to use this rock formation as a base during the day, and sent out brief search expeditions in shifts. There were three of them, and they had found shelter in a place above the cranny and to my right. As I listened to their boring and desultory conversation I realized, ironically, they were part of the Furtan group who had captured me in my last pathetic attempt. Judging from their voices, they were fairly close. I prayed, not only that they would stay where they were, but that before the sun shifted to my side they would move on, so I could look for a less exposed haven.

The morning wore on, and the hunters made no sign of moving. I became increasingly concerned; the sun was getting higher, and the overhanging ledge was now my last source of shade. At one point I took Mila out of his wrapping to check on his condition. At least that’s what I told myself. I was afraid that if I was honest and admitted that the real reason was to solicit help from a regnar,the slide into total insanity would be swift and sure. I was getting desperate. Just then one of the hunters decided to have a last look around before settling in for the blistering afternoon. As he detached from the group, I could hear that he was coming my way.

Holding Mila to the side I scrunched myself into the space as tightly as I could and dug my feet into the sand. I didn’t know what else to do. I looked at Mila, who was absolutely still. As he sensed my attention his coloration subtly adjusted to the exact color tones of his immediate area. I heard the crunch‑crunch of approaching steps and closed my eyes in a childish attempt to disappear. All I could hear was my heart beating like a drum, and I was afraid that if it didn’t give me away my ragged breathing would. I tried to hold my breath, but that only made each heartbeat more furious. I began to panic, and again looked to Mila, who was now barely visible. How did he remain so still, so self‑possessed? I studied him as if my life depended on it; it was then that I noticed that his flanks moved ever so slowly as they filled with air, and slowly as they released. Then there was a long moment of no movement at all before the cycle began again. I surrendered to the same rhythm, and the pounding of my heart began to subside.

The steps came to a stop just outside my cranny. I continued to breathe with Mila. Silence. I could now hear the hunter’s breath struggling with the heat, and feel his directed energy as he inspected the opening. He must have been looking directly at me. I knew that somehow I had to depress my energy, avoid locking into his focus. Like Mila. Think of Mila. Blending from one moment into another. Moving at the edge of shade and light. Transforming with shifting hues as light changes angle and moves across surface. My focus flattened; my energy, slowed by the rhythm of my breathing, seeped out around me and was absorbed by the surrounding surfaces. I surrendered Elim Garak–Ten Lubak–all identity–to the sand and rocks. And all the while I felt clear, calm . . . and guided.

After what seemed like forever the hunter moved away. I remained in this suspension, this utter peace, until I became aware that the sun had lowered and was exposing me to its full force. I knew that I wouldn’t last long, and that a move had to be made. My calmness, however, prevailed, and I knew what to do. I placed Mila on the ground in front of me and waited. His coloration again subtly adjusted to the change. Wherever he went I would follow, even into the depth of the rock formation if necessary. He moved to the opening. After a few more moves I painfully unwound myself, got as close to the burning sand as was possible and followed. Every time Mila made a soundless scurry I went with him. The ground heat was suffocating and my hands were screaming. It was a shock to experience my body again. We moved to the left, away from the hunters, who had obviously found shade. We stayed close to the rock and out of their sightline. I began to anticipate Mila’s moves, and for a while we moved as one. How ridiculous this must have looked, a grown man scurrying after a regnarin the sand. But how liberating to discover resources and a teacher beyond the limits of conventional wisdom and pedagogy.

Three more members of the Furtan group were on the other side of the rock formation, but Mila had found a hidden depression that required some quiet digging to get into, and we avoided detection. We settled in and resealed the opening with sand and loose rocks. After an indeterminate period, the Furtan hunters left. As we waited for nightfall I fell into a deep sleep. My dreams were a jumbled mess of images and actions, at the center of which Palandine was laughing at something or someone I couldn’t see. At one point I was awakened by the sounds and voices of another group. They were probing our immediate area. I was confident that we were secure.

“Take out your grapples and probe the higher opening, Three! If this murk is not caught, everyone shares the punishment.”

My heart jumped into my throat. It was the Gruff Voice. It took me a while to calm myself. But by then the group had passed. What murk? Me? Have all the others been captured? Surely not Eight. I couldn’t believe that was possible. I poked through an opening when I was certain it was safe. The last gray streaks of light were fading on the horizon. By the time I tucked Mila safely away it was time to continue. I reoriented myself, chose the direction and set off. I was determined not to be captured–especially not by the Gruff Voice.

It was a long, nerve‑wracking night. The beams of night probes were constantly criss‑crossing the darkness. We eluded two other groups, including the Tarnal. I could hear our section leader, One Tarnal, urging on the others with the same threats of punishment. Were there this many hunting groups the last time? And were they as advanced as the Tarnal? Since I’d been captured so quickly I couldn’t know. And I refused to allow these questions to interfere with the task at hand. I walked, I ran, I crawled, I curled up into a ball, I dug myself into the sand; I did whatever was necessary. On one occasion, passing hunters should have detected me. I was amazed when they passed within feet of my crouched and curled body. Perhaps they thought I was a rock. Mila’s lessons were making the difference.