The toil was frustrating and often dangerous, as this predator
or that would react to his unorthodox, and therefore unacceptable
presence.
But the real danger had come while stalking the plains elk. Instead of
bolting when he appeared, the herd leader had turned on him suddenly,
nearly grinding him into oblivion against the side of a large boulder.
Even now he shuddered at the sight of those enormous antlers, coming at
him with such startling speed and agility.
He thought then, very deep inside himself, of how easily the pack had
hunted such game in the past, and of the honor and respect they
commanded. This in turn led to burning memories of his brother, and of
the murdering half-breed that had brought the pack to such shame. The
injustice of it all was more than his mind could accept. It tore him up
inside, and he couldn't get it out.
He wanted to KILL him. He wanted to kill him.
Sylviana was almost in a state of shock. If Kalus had intended to sober
her opinion of what they were up against by exposing her directly to it,
then he had resorted to overkill. Never had she felt so helpless and
exposed as in the presence of that ever-changing panorama of landscapes
and formidable creatures. It was like a bad dream without waking: being
in some monstrous zoo, and then finding that the bars of the cages had
suddenly disappeared.
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