'Kalus….. Will you sleep with me tonight? Not to make love—-' He put a finger to her lips. He knew what she meant. They stayed there by the entrance a while longer, then went together to the bed.
Akar ate solemnly, without pleasure, then returned to the isolated hell of his thoughts.
Chapter 12
Morning came softly by the riverbed, with a cool northeastern breeze that rustled the changing willow leaves and sent long waves of golden brown across a gentle sea of grass: the Savanna. The boy stood silent on the northern bank at the meeting of the shallow, stony stream and the wider, more placid river, breathing deep the autumn air and gazing out over the pearling waters with a look of boundless wonder. For his was the magic of youth among the hill-people: man enough to take in more than the sum of his surroundings, animal enough to feel the bliss of a mind free from distraction.
He had wandered far from his sleeping comrades, just as his friend the estranged one used to do. He found himself thinking of Kalus now, and wondered vaguely, perhaps a bit sadly, if he was still alive. Not that the thought was deep or the pain acute. But it did seem unfortunate that he had to be cast out, when maybe he was not so strange after all. Shama missed him.
Hearing a twig crack behind him, he stiffened. Whirling about, he searched the sloping embankment with startled curiosity. A lone wolf stood at the crest of the hill, not forty yards away. He wondered what it was doing so far from its established hunting grounds. Even as he did so another head appeared, followed by a low, snaking body. The two did not move, but stood rather in ominous silence, peering down at him intently.
But they could not be stalking him. There was no reason.
But then an even larger wolf appeared, standing in dark majesty between the others, a full head taller than either. On closer inspection there could be seen some flaw in him, some change. The head was larger and the ears wider. The snout was shorter and a dark, bristling mane like that of a horse could be seen as he lowered a haunting mask toward the tribesman. Black streaks ran down from it across his haunching shoulders, the yellowish thrust of the upper body yielding gradually to that of an unchanged wolf. And he was strong, unnaturally strong. His slitted eyes were fierce and full of hatred: Shar-hai.
The boy took first one step, and then another, upstream away from them, trying not to show how helpless and afraid he really was. He moved laterally, not wanting to turn his back. They were coming after him now, gaining speed with each crouching step. He started to run, but a loose clump of grassy mud gave way beneath the weight of his foot, splitting his legs apart beneath him. He fell forward stiffly, landing half in the water and half on the sandy shore.
The three were upon him in an instant. He tried to call out for help, but his terror-filled cries were too feeble to pierce the oncoming wind, and were carried away before they could reach his sleeping comrades, less than half a mile away. He felt a sharp burst of pain at the back of his neck, followed by an icy numbness. Then all sensations blurred and faded. A silent blackness engulfed him, and he was no more.