“The Golden Path,” she whispered. “I can feel it.” Then, glaring at him. “It’s so cruel!” “Survival has always been cruel.” “They couldn’t hide,” she whispered. Then loud: “What have you done to me?” “You tried to be a Fremen rebel,” he said. “Fremen had an almost incredible ability to read signs on the desert. They could even read the faint tracery of windblown tracks in sand.” He saw the beginnings of remorse in her, memories of her dead companions floating in her awareness. He spoke quickly, knowing that guilt would follow quickly and then anger against him. “Would you have believed me if I
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