The night was bitter and stark, with hard stars like countless
pin-pricks staring lidless upon the Earth. The world itself was equally
sharp, trees frozen, rocks cracking with the cold. But one creature,
not yet versed in Night's supremacy, struggled on against the icy
stillness.
The yearling tiger moved drunkenly forward, at intervals collapsing upon
its injured hind leg. Weak from hunger and loss of blood, the dizziness
was becoming chronic. It lay for a time where it had fallen, licking
the hard snow and fighting, instinctively, to remain conscious. Though
born to withstand the numbing cold there were other dangers, and death,
a thing it did not understand but instinctively feared, was not far off.
Somehow it had wandered into a cleft between high walls. Forward or
backward, it could not now recall. It regained its feet and struggled
on. All bearing and sense of direction lost, it suddenly found itself
confronted by a steep incline, rising darkly from the soft blur of
white. Too young to know genuine despair, and too far gone to think
otherwise, it began to climb. It sensed light, or warmth, or something
ahead. All reason and strength slipped away as the world became level
again, and it staggered forward unthinking, nothing more than a moth
drawn by flame.
Something unyielding blocked its path, and now it smelled food. It
scratched feebly and let out a mournful growl. Then all sense faded,
and if fell into the drifting snow.
*
Sylviana heard a scratching sound at the door, then something that
sounded as if the night itself had been given bitter voice. Akar was
not with them, and the only image stark enough to penetrate her malaise,
and therefore seem real to her, said that it was the wolf, wounded and
probably dying. She went shaking to the door, worked free the bolt, and
thrust it open. There she saw something large and unfamiliar, heard
(whether in reality or delirium) something akin to a vicious growl: the
voice given teeth. She took a step back, and screamed.
It was perhaps the one sound which could have roused him. Kalus sat
bolt upright, weak but stable, and called out to her.
'Sylviana!'
He felt the cold wind rushing past. The door was open. She was in
danger. He stood with difficulty and made his way towards her, holding
on through the dizziness that sought to rob his will. He stood beside
her, leaning heavily against the door-frame, and stared out into the
night. She had regained her rationality, and now looked down upon a
wounded and half-starved predator.
Pity stirred at last in Kalus' heart, as if a sign had been given and
understood. There was no time to question, or debate whether his own
life was worth saving. Here was a creature, young and without guilt,
who would die if he did not act.
'Sylviana. Help me carry him in.'
'Are you all right?' She looked hard at him, and he answered
honestly.
'I'm not the one who matters now. Will you help me?'
She nodded vaguely and together they lifted the tiger as best they
could, bringing it inside. Though fully six feet long, in its ravaged
condition it couldn't have weighed more than two hundred pounds. But
it was limp, lifeless weight, and the best they could manage was to lay
it just inside the barrier.
'It's all right,' Kalus panted, head down. 'This is a snow
tiger. He won't need much more heat than this. It's more the
mangled leg, and starvation.' He looked across at the woman-child,
and perceived for the first time the dismal state into which she herself
had fallen, a malady of the mind, which had then spread to the body.
He felt ashamed, and frightened, and glad all at once. He was needed,
and his desire to live had somehow returned from its shallow grave,
embodied in the weakened, but far from dead creature at his feet.
And his own body, he knew from deepest instinct, was not yet ready to
surrender. On the contrary, it had made a small recovery. The two-day
fast and stubborn, death-like sleep had emptied his throbbing
intestines, and given his natural defenses time to adapt and regain some
measure of their innate strength. He was still very sick, but maybe
now.....
The words, 'Forgive me,' played upon his lips but had an empty,
useless feel. He went to the door, closed it, and though cold and
aching he said to her. 'Please don't lose hope. I'm going to
make it all right for us, somehow. Some way. You stood by me these
past days, and I..... You are a woman. I will earn your trust, and
repay my debt in full. I am yours.'
He embraced her and asked her to lie down in his bed. He then wrapped
the buffalo robe around him, tended the fire, and brought her food and
water. 'Sleep,' he told her. 'In comfort and in peace. I
feel a little stronger, but I will do nothing foolish. I must tend the
tiger's wounds, and if Akar returns with meat, feed us both. Then
you and I will sleep together. I love you. Be well in your heart.'
He shook off all emotions of weakness and sorrow, and set out to do what
must be done.
Akar returned a short time later. After studying the tiger uncertainly,
and looking hard at Kalus, he set down his burden, part of a kill stolen
from a badger. It was not much to look at, but from it Kalus was able
to carve and cook a pound or two of meat. He divided portions for all
the company, then placed the remainder in a bowl, along with the cooked
blood, beside the big cat, still unconscious. He then cleaned, repaired
and wrapped its wounds as best he could, laying it more comfortably on
the floor. He knew that in taking it among them, and especially in
binding one of its limbs, he risked confusing and provoking a creature
capable of doing them great harm. But he had an unspoken faith that it
was not yet old and hard enough to hate without reason, or to see as
enemies all those unlike itself.
Not wishing to squander the unexpected turn of his fortunes, or the
quiet courage that had risen inside him, he lay down without further
exposure beside the girl, wrapping the furs thickly around them both.
Waking, she said in a soft and pleading voice.
'Don't leave me here. Please don't ever leave me.' He
answered without words, holding her close and caressing her tear-stained
hair.
Again they had found each other, and Kalus knew that in their bond lay
the one real hope of his survival. She made him want to live.