The outlander was lying upon the sand. His ragged, torn clothing and his bruised, scratched flesh gave mute testimony of his grim struggle with the sea. The tide surged over his legs as if the water were reluctant to abandon its claim upon his body.... Ancient joints popping, he picked his way over the danp sand to the unconscious form. Wonder filled him as he studied the crumpled figure at his feet. Quite a nose; sharper and more prominent than any of my people's. What strange skin. No scales. Odd color, too. Halfway between an Orange and a White. Easing to his knees, K'nishi ran his fingers over the man's bare cheek. Softer and smoother than a baby's. The outlander's reddish-brown hair grew profusely. In all the years that he had breathed, he'd never seen a beard that grew so thick and luxurious--not even among the T'oong. He combed through the man's hair with his fingers. It was unusually fine. A strand of H'lomeh hair would be three or four times thicker. K'nishi carefully pulled back the eyelids. The eyes were small--smaller than any H'lomeh's--and gray-colored pupils as well. He'd never heard of anybody having gray eyes. Methodically, K'nishi checked for signs of life. The outlander did not seem to be breathing, at first; then he spied movement of the man's chest. He pressed the main artery of the outlander's right wrist and noted with satisfaction that there was a weak pulse. A dubious wonder filled K'nishi. So, it is as Omanii saw in her dream: He doesn't look like much this gift which the --sea has brought us--but Omanii insisted this outlander was worth saving. We'll do what we can to help him. Most of his people remained hidden among the dark trees looming beyond the beach dunes. K'nishi shifted his eyes from the prone form upon the sand and sadly took in the faces of the few men standing near him upon the exposed beach. So far, this shoosh'tah-dai had proven successful beyond all his hopes. Not without its price, though. The cost had been proportional to the reward. Too many missing faces. Too many felled by the Bhar-kar-d'esh. Pain and sorrow smote his eyes, blurring his vision. From my book manuscript, "The B'ha'an: The Gift from the Sea," copyright 1972, 1994.