And when it is done to provide food and shelter for the
lives entrusted to his care, he can work harder and more selflessly
still. But take away his reason, his hope for some kind of betterment,
however distant, and the strongest, most determined man becomes rootless
and lethargic. Tasks and dangers he thought little of before, become as
tedious and harrowing as a literal fight for life. Kalus continued
because he knew, as every animal does, that he must continue. But as
the work sapped his strength and the emotional wound caused by the death
of Skither bled unchecked, he became first weary, then angry, then
through the ceaseless, hopeless repetition, empty and indifferent.
Sometimes when he felt weakest he would look at the girl, and remember
the beautiful thing they had shared. And for a time these memories of
warmth and desire would sustain him. But soon all fantasies of a
peaceful and prosperous future became nothing more to him than a carrot
dangling at the end of a stick, though he possessed no such metaphor to
help him understand. And he had no psychologist to tell him that by
submerging his grief and distancing himself from the girl he was hurting
himself, and stifling the healing forces of time and close
companionship. He cut, and carried, and shaped and fitted, sometimes in
blinding snow, stopping during daylight hours only to hunt, or to look
over what had been done.
Pages:
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142