All the times Barabbas had gone hungry so that others
could eat, the way he always stood foremost in times of danger, risking
his own life to defend them. He felt his pain. And he found himself
fighting back tears as he rose.
'Why are you crying?' he said feebly. Then remembering, he
signaled with his hands. 'Why?'
And Barabbas misunderstood, as the wolves and tribesmen stood in silent
truce around them, the guard deserted, and he thought Kalus asked.
'Why did you not let him kill me?' This was too much for him. He
clenched his hands around nothing and bowed his head, and felt as if he
stood at the center of a vast desert where nothing and no one could
touch him and all he could do was fight and not win.
'How could I?' he signaled clumsily, ashamed. His large eyes and
matted hair faced downward, then looked up again, almost pleading.
'I killed him because you are my flesh. You are my son; I will never
have a son. Because I cannot breathe or sleep when I think you are
alone and in danger, and I know it is my fault.
'I was afraid Carnivore; I am often afraid. I also knew of this
killer.' He moved a hand toward the ground, toward the still figure
of the marauder who had ended Shama's life. 'When I saw the wolf
among us in the cave, I forgot all reasons.
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