“She was searching for food,” he said, “but at this season there are no berries, and she was without weapons.”
The trail finally turned abruptly downward into a gully filled with young trees, from whose midst could be heard the chattering of a brook.
Sunrise paused on the brink. His head sank on his chest; his muscles relaxed. He all but dropped his bow. As he stood thus the days of his youth went from him forever.
“I shall find her below,” he said presently, “but she will not speak to me. I have been too long in coming.”
He descended into the gully, slowly, like one in a dream.
She had died among the violets by the brook, and she was not yet cold. In her hand was a branch of birch half stripped of its leaves; for she had eaten them to stave off starvation.
He sat for a long time with her head on his knees. “I should have stayed with you, Dawn,” he said. “I should have let the man go.”
And later.
“There will never be any solace to me in thinking of what I have done. My cave will be always empty now. There will be no son to cling to my fingers with his little hands. There will be nothing for me now. For I shall always be finding you silent among the violets by the brook.”