Eldon cursed silently. This damnable girl, although beautiful in her own odd way, not only insulted him with her pity but invaded his mind.
"Well, shut your mind if you don't like it," she snapped angrily. "You're odd, too, and far from beautiful."
Margaret Matson opened her eyes. A strange man stood over her, and what a man! He was huge and hard looking, with dark, wind-toughened skin. He was dressed in some sort of barbaric military uniform, colorful and heavily decorated. And he was playing with a needle pointed dagger.
Her mouth opened. "Victor!" she screamed.
Her voice reverberated hollowly from the curved walls and roof of a small metal room. The big man screwed up his face at the shrill noise.
"Victor! Help me!" she shouted again.
Victor failed to answer.
"Eldon!" she yelled.
The big warrior spun his dagger casually, the way a boy would play with a stick. His lips curled back in a wolfish grin, emphasizing two of his strong white teeth that projected beyond the others like fangs. His whole appearance was brutal.