But
when he heard the sounds of battle, and saw the female running past with
the cub but looking back many times, he understood.
'Akar!' he thought dismally, pounding his head in anger and
self-loathing. 'Why didn't I know it before?'
It all came to him in an instant: the outcast wolf, the murderous
usurper, Akar's underlying despair. And he knew and felt a quiet
dread creep over him. Because he could not wait.
He ran now, all hiding behind him, up the hill toward the place where he
knew Akar was fighting for his life, and for the life of the female he
loved. He thought of Sylviana and nearly stopped---he looked
back---then continued up the hill with the sword in his hand. His
pledge, and the threat of a dangerous enemy left unchallenged, drove him
on.
After a time he tried to pace himself, knowing he would have nothing
left. But still he pushed as hard as he dared. He reached the clearing,
now unguarded, and looked up at the promontory. He could not rush in
blind, with the battle so close, but must have some advantage at least.
So he moved to a place where the rock was scarred and began to climb,
that he would not be wholly without protection.
But his limbs trembled as he went, and when he reached the top he went
to the edge overlooking the arena and cried out his rage and fear in a
voice that was more like a roar than something human.
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