through

feet to the right, light as the tumbling of a big ball of moss. It rose on its hind legs, the long fur settling loosely about it like a cloak, and made a chuckling sound of pleasure.
The plain seemed to explode about Telzey.

The explosion was in her mind. Tensions held too long, too hard, lashed back through her in seething con­­fusion at a moment when too much needed to be done at once. Her physical vision went black; Robane’s beast and the starlit slope vanished. She was sweeping through a topsy-turvy series of mental pictures and sen­­sations. Rish’s face appeared, wide-eyed, distorted with alarm, the aircar skimming almost at ground level along the top of a grassy rise, a wood suddenly ahead. “Now!” Telzey thought. Shouts, and the car swerved up again. Then a brief, thudding, jarring sensation underfoot . . . 
That was done.
She swung about to Robane’s waiting excitement, slipped through it into his mind. In an instant, her awareness poured through a net of subconscious psi channels that became half familiar as she touched them. Machine static clattered, too late to dislodge her. She was there. Robane, unsuspecting, looked out through his creature’s eyes at her shape on the plain, hands locked hard on the instruments through which he lived, experienced, murdered.
In minutes, Telzey thought, in minutes, if she was alive minutes from now, she would have this mind—unaware, unresistant, wide open to her—under control. But she wasn’t certain she could check the spook then through Robane. He had never attempted to hold it back moments away from its kill.
Vision cleared. She stood on the slope, tight tendrils of thought w