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Paul
wiped
sweat
-
caked
dust
from
his
forehead
,
felt
a
tug
at
his
arm
,
heard
Chani
’
s
voice
hissing
.
“
Do
as
I
told
you
:
bring
the
fold
of
your
hood
down
over
your
forehead
!
Leave
only
the
eyes
exposed
.
You
waste
moisture
.
”
A
whispered
command
behind
them
demanded
silence
:
“
The
desert
hears
you
!
”
A
bird
chirruped
from
the
rocks
high
above
them
.
The
troop
stopped
,
and
Paul
sensed
abrupt
tension
.
There
came
a
faint
thumping
from
the
rocks
,
a
sound
no
louder
than
mice
jumping
in
the
sand
.
Again
,
the
bird
chirruped
.
A
stir
passed
through
the
troop
’
s
ranks
.
And
again
,
the
mouse
-
thumping
pecked
its
way
across
the
sand
.
Once
more
,
the
bird
chirruped
.
The
troop
resumed
its
climb
up
into
a
crack
in
the
rocks
,
but
there
was
a
stillness
of
breath
about
the
Fremen
now
that
filled
Paul
with
caution
,
and
he
noted
covert
glances
toward
Chani
,
the
way
she
seemed
to
withdraw
,
pulling
in
upon
herself
.
There
was
rock
underfoot
now
,
a
faint
gray
swishing
of
robes
around
them
,
and
Paul
sensed
a
relaxing
of
discipline
,
but
still
that
quiet
-
of
-
the
-
person
about
Chani
and
the
others
.
He
followed
a
shadow
shape
—
up
steps
,
a
turn
,
more
steps
,
into
a
tunnel
,
past
two
moisture
-
sealed
doors
and
into
a
globelighted
narrow
passage
with
yellow
rock
walls
and
ceiling
.
