The girls seemed restless, short-tempered, irritable. I saw more than one looking at the moons.

"Verna" said one of them.

"Quiet," said Verna.

The file continued its journey through the trees and brush, threading its way through the darkness and branches.

"We have seen men," said one of the girls, insistently.

"Be silent," said Verna.

"We should have taken slaves," said another irritably.

"No," said Verna.

"The circle," said another. "We must go to the circle!"

Verna stopped and turned.

"It is on our way," said another.

"Please, Verna," said another, her voice pleading.

Verna regarded the girls. "Very well," she said. "we shall stop at the circle."

The girls relaxed visibly.

Then perhaps after another hour, we came, almost abruptly, suddenly, to a stand of the high trees, the Tur trees, of the northern forests.

It was breathtakingly beautiful.

The girls stopped.

I looked about myself.

We found ourselves now in the stand of the lofty Tur trees. I could see broadly spreading branches some two hundred feet or move above my head. The trunks of the tree were almost bare of branches until, so far above, branches seemed to explode in an interlacing blanket of foilage, almost oblierating the sky. I could see glimpses of the three moons high above. The floor of the forest almost bare. Between the lofty, widely spaced trees there was little but a carpeting of leaves.

I saw two of the girls looking up at the moons. Their lips were parted, there fists clenched. There seemed to be pain in their eyes.

"Verna," said one of them.

"Silence," said their leader.

It was no accident that we had stopped at this place.

One of the girls whimpered.

"All right," said Verna, "go to the circle."

The girl turned and sped across the carpeting of leaves.

"Me, Verna!" cried another.

"To the circle," said Verna irritably.

The girl turned and sped after the first.

One by one, with her eyes, Verna released the girls, and each ran lightly, eagerly, through the trees.

Then Verna came to me and took my leash from the hand of the girl who had held it. "Go to the circle," she told the girl.

Swiftly, not speaking, the girl ran after the others.

Verna looked after them.

Then, to my amazement, Verna unsnapped the choke leash from my throat and then unbound my wrists.

"Follow the others," she said. "You will come to the clearing. At the edge of the clearing, you will find a post Wait there to be bound."

"Yes Mistress," I said.

After some hundred yards I came to the edge of a clearing. It was some twenty five to thirty yards in diameter, ringed by the lofty trunks of Tur trees. The floor of the clearing was lovely grass, thick and some inches in height, soft, and beautiful. I looked up. Bright in the dark, star-strewn Gorean sky, large, dominating, seemingly close enough to touch, loomed the three moons of Gor.

The girls of Verna's band stood about the edge of the circle. They did not speak. They were breathing deeply. They seemed restless. Several had their eyes closed, their fists clenched. Their weapons had been discarded.

I saw, at one side of the clearing, the post.

It was about five feet high, and seven inches thick, sturdy, sunk deep into the ground. In its back, there were two heavy metal rings, one about two feet from the ground, the other about three and a half feet from the ground. It was a rough post, barked. On its front, near the top, carved, cut into the bark with the point of a sleen knife, was a crude representation of opened slave bracelets. It was a slave post.

I went and stood before it. Elinor Brinton, the slave.

"Kneel, " snapped Verna.

I did so.

Verna resnapped the leather and metal choke collar on my throat. She then threaded the leash through the ring, about three and a half feet high, behind the post, brought the leash about and looped it, from the left to the right, about my neck and then rethreaded it through the ring, pulling it tight. I was bound by the neck to the post. Then she threaded the free end of the leash through the lower of the two rings, passed it about my belly, and rethreaded it again through the same ring, keeping it tight, fastening me at the waist to the post. With the free end of the leash, keeping it taut, she then lashed my ankles together behind the bost. I was bound, save that my hands were free.

Verna took the length of binding fiber from herskins, that which had formerely bound my wrists.

"Place your hands above your head," she said.

I did so.

She tied the binding fiber securely about my left wrist, took the fiber behind the post, threaded it through the highest of the two metal rings, and then, jerking my right wrist back, bound it, too, fastening me to the post.

I knelt, secured.

"Verna!" spoke one of the girls.

"Very well!" said Verna, irritably. "Very well!"

The first girl to leap to the center of the circle was she who had first held my leash.

She had blond hair. Her head was down, and shaking. Then she threw her head back, moaning, and reached up, clawing for the moons of Gor. The other girls, too, responded to her, whimpering and moaning, clenching and unclenching their fists.

The first girl began to writhe, crying out, stamping in the circle.

Then another girl joined her, and another, and another, And then another!

Stamping, turning, crying out, moaning, clawing at the moons, they danced.

Then there were none who had not entered the savage circle, save Verna, the band's leader, proud and superb, armed and disdainful, and Elinor Brinton, a bound slave.

The first girl, throwing back her head to the moons, screamed and tore her skins to the waist, writhing. And then another!

Then, for the first time I noticed, in the center of the circle, there were four heavy stakes, about six inches in height, dark in the grass. They formed a small, but ample square. I shuddered. They were notched, that binding fiber might not slip from them.

The first girl began to dance before the square.

I looked up into the sky. In the dark sky the moons were vast and bright.

Another girl, crying out, tore her own skins to the waist and clawing, moaning, writhing, approached the square. Then another and another!

I did not even look upon Verna, so horrified I was at the barbaric spectacle. I had not believed that women could be like this.

And then the first girl tore away her skins and danced in her golden ornaments beneath the huge, wild moons, on the grass of the circle, before the square.

I could not believe my eyes. I shuddered, fearing such women.

Then suddenly, to my amazement, Verna cried out in anguish, a wild, moaning, anguished cry, and threw herself her weapons and tore away her own skins and leaped into the circle, turning, and clawing and crying out like theothers. She was not other than they, but first among them! She danced savagely, clad only in her gold and beauty, beneath the moons. She cried out and clawed. Sometimes she bit at another girl or struck at her, if she dared approach the square more closely than she. Writhing, enraged, but fearful, eyes blazing, dancing, they fell back before her.

She danced first among them, their leader.

Then, throwing her head back, she screamed, shaking clenched fists at the moons.

And then, helplessly, she threw herself to the grass within the square, striking at it, biting and tearing at it, and then she threw herself on her back and, fists clenched, writhed beneath the moons.

One by one the other girls, too, violently threw themselves to the grass, rolling upon it and moaning, some even within the precints of the square, then throwing themselves upon their backs, some with their eyes closed, crying out, others with their eyes open, fixed helplessly on the wild moons, some with hands tearing at the grass, others pounding the earth piteously with their small fists, sobbing and whimpering, their bodies uncontrolled, helpless, writhing, under the moons of Gor.

I found myself pulling at my bonds, suddenly aching with an inexplicable loneliness and desire. I pulled at the fiber that bound my wrists, so cruelly back; my throat pressed against the straps on my throat, almost choking me; my belly writhed under its strap; my ankles moved against one another, helpless in the leather confinement of the knotted strap. I looked up at the moons. I cried out in anguish. I wanted to be free, too, to dance, to cry out, to claw at the moons, to throw myself on the living, fibrous, flowing grass, to writhe with these women, my sisters, to writhe with them in the frenzy of their need.

At last the girls, one by one, rose from the grass, drew on again their skins, and took up their weapons.

Captive of Gor, pgs. 127-135