'
Kalus' heart sank, as if a part of himself had died as well. He
hardly noted what followed, and only much later was able to piece it all
together in his mind.
The seasonal battle in the desert spawning place had been fierce and
desperate. Apparently Skither had half expected such an end, for he
left word with his comrades of the man-child and his mate, leaving these
instructions for them:
'The cave is now yours, along with everything in it. This, my
messenger, will remain here until he is well enough to move on. Be of
good hope, and continue.'
But Kalus stood in empty disbelief. He could not believe, for all that
he held to be strong and unchanging had been suddenly, irrevocably cut
out from under him. Skither had been more than a symbol to him, he had
been a living god---strength and courage and wisdom personified. If he
in all his prowess could be broken, then what chance did he himself have
against the ceaseless ravages of his world? The question was too much
for him.
In all his days he would see only two more of the noble creatures.
Their time on earth running out, it was perhaps a small comfort to know
that the reign of their enemies was also passing. A thousand years of
radiation and unlimited carrion had raised the tarantula to its huge
proportions.
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