Little Nobar, the monkey, awakened Dylara by dropping empty bean pods on her upturned face. She blinked in the sunlight filtering through the leaves, and sat up.
Her first thought was that she was actually free. Yet to be accomplished was the task of learning the direction in which lay the caves of her people, then crossing that distance alone, exposed to many dangers.
Dylara, in her accustomed environment, was a resourceful young woman. The prospect of a long journey—just how long a journey she could only surmise—concerned her far less than had the prospects of a lifetime of slavery in Sephar. All her life she had rubbed elbows with jungle beasts. Since infancy the green wilderness of the forest had been her front yard. Night after night she had gone to sleep with the roars of lions and the hunting squalls of leopards for a lullaby. She had learned to respect and avoid Sadu and Tarlok and Jalok—but not to fear them. She knew they hunted man only when other food was denied them—and that was seldom. She knew that a tall tree was a sure haven from all three; for Sadu could not climb at all, while Jalok and Tarlok would not venture among the smaller limbs able to bear her weight but not theirs.
From the freshly risen sun's position Dylara realized she had slept the entire night on this narrow branch. As she drowsily reviewed the previous day's events, she remembered her injured ankle and bent hurriedly to examine it.
She was relieved to find hardly any swelling there, nor was the damage to strained ligaments so great as she at first had feared. Rising, she tested her weight on the one foot and found that, beyond an occasional twinge, it would support her.
Slowly she worked her way down to earth and stepped into the trail. Here she waited a few minutes, planning her next move. She finally decided to follow the path westward away from Sephar until a cross-trail to the north turned up. Such a route would eventually lead her to the heights from which she had first looked upon Sephar. From that point on, finding the caves of Majok should not be impossible.
She skirted the clearing containing the house of Rydob, walking within the jungle's fringe to avoid being seen by anyone who might be within the building, and soon was traveling due west.
As she moved slowly ahead, limping slightly, she noticed the imprints of monstrous, man-like feet in the dust of the path. At first she examined the marks closely; but her limited woodcraft did not permit their identification, and she gave up trying.
The makers of those strange prints, Urb and his savage band, were plodding westward along the same path only a few hours ahead of the cave-girl.