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The Island Of Serenity
Faron is almost directly behind Mike, he wishes to watch how he functions, but still to keep several people between himself and the head of the group, after all, he is here to learn about survival, there is no need to get himself mauled to death, (even if he must recover), when a certain amount of good sense might avoid such unpleasantness. Faron has gotten to the point where he has, to some degree forgotten, just how close to animals the tribe resembled, but here and now, Mike seems to revert almost totally to some form of former state. He advances, more often on all fours, smelling and tasting the earth and plants in his path. Suddenly there is a change in his attitude, the flowing, fluid motion of his movements, ceases, he stops, sniffs, sniffs again, stiffens, straightens his little body and turns back to the group. Without a sound, he raises an arm high into the air, this is the signal, he has found the trail; a wave of excitement, arousal, fear and expectation sweeps down the ranks. Then he turns back, and they are again making their way through the foliage. ‘I wonder how we shall capture it. Maybe we should hunt it like a Snark, how does it go? They sought it with thimbles, they sought it with care;    They pursued it with forks and hope; They threatened its life with a railway-share;    They charmed it with smiles and soap.’ He is lost in his thoughts; maybe he is fighting a growing feeling of fear, maybe he has never, in the sober light of day, put himself into a situation where he could be physically damaged. He allows himself to dissociate from the moment, part totally present, totally aware of every sight, sound and smell, (thanks to his prehistoric senses), yet another, protective filter, loses himself in Lewis Carroll, and the nonsense and the rhymes.