As Tharn came down to the floor of the glade, he wondered why the scream of the giant cat had not brought enemy warriors running to the scene. That none had appeared made certain his belief that they were elsewhere in the neighborhood, and he breathed easier.
As soon as Tharn reappeared, the girl whose life he had saved rose from a clump of bushes a few feet away. And thus they stood there, each eyeing the other with frank interest.
Tharn's brain was awhirl. So much that was new and exciting had crowded into it within the last few hours that he was incapable of rational thinking. But this he knew: something had been born within him that had not been there an hour ago.
He spoke first. "I am Tharn," he said.
The girl did not at once respond to his implied question. She seemed hesitant, uncertain as to the wisdom of remaining there.
"I am Dylara," she said at last, her voice low and soft, yet wonderfully clear. "My father is chief of the tribe that bears his name. The caves of Majok are there," and she pointed toward the cliff, hidden from them by intervening trees.
Under the impetus of crystallizing realization, Tharn said what he had wanted to say from the first. "I kept Tarlok from getting you," he reminded her. "Now you belong to me!"
The brown-haired girl flushed with mingled astonishment and anger.
"You are a fool!" she retorted. "I belong to no one. Because you saved me from Tarlok, I will not call my people if you go away at once."