Noon
Once she brushed against the pack on his back and drew away with a sudden recoil . Houston dully realized the reason . The selfish , gripping hands of Winter , holding nothing sacred , had invaded even there . Noon . And a half-cry from both of them , a burst of energy which soon faded . For above was Crestline -- even as the little Croatian settlement had been -- smokeless , lifeless . They had gone from here also , hurrying humans fleeing with the last snowplow before the tempest , beings afraid to remain , once the lines of communication were broken .