ABSTRACT
He sat on the bare ground, leaning against a deadfall, his leather-wrapped legs pulled tight under him, and he watched the swamp. He felt disoriented, detached from the world around him. Even the air around him felt strange; this place was unusually warm. A possum waddled from a copse of vine-maple below him, and Yurk watched the possum move off to the left. The possum was in a hurry, constantly jerking his head to the right, over his shoulder. He darted toward the marshy bank and stopped
to sniff the ground. Some noise or an odor carried on the wind seemed suddenly to startle the possum into attention, and he looked back toward Yurk, then moved off into the tall marsh grass, where he disappeared from view.
