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But then why had it not killed me? Perhaps it wanted to get me somehow to its den and there make its kill, that the meat might be fresher? Or, perhaps, more plausibly, it might wish to keep me in its larder, or pantry, as it might be a rational beast, with an eye to the future, until it was hungry? It then, slowly, one by one, put the digits of its left hand, or paw, on my cheek. - (Dancer of Gor, Chapter 27, Sentence #276)

Indeed, I shuddered to consider what might be the rituals and habits, the courtships and matings, of such a thing. Too, it was not behaving toward me as might have a master, say, fondling me with possessive audacity or throwing my legs apart, to see how I might look with them spread, or to let me know what my relationship was to be to him. For what, then, could it want me? Doubtless food. But then why had it not killed me? Perhaps it wanted to get me somehow to its den and there make its kill, that the meat might be fresher? Or, perhaps, more plausibly, it might wish to keep me in its larder, or pantry, as it might be a rational beast, with an eye to the future, until it was hungry? It then, slowly, one by one, put the digits of its left hand, or paw, on my cheek. I suddenly shuddered. There had been five, and then, when I had thought them done, terrifying me, there had been another! The thing had six digits! It was then alien, as far as I knew, not only to Earth but Gor. It was from somewhere else! I was suddenly wild with terror, not the numbing paralyzing terror, which I now understand the thing was waiting to pass, but a different sort of terror, now a wild, helpless terror. - (Dancer of Gor)