A comrade addressed him in French.....
He stumbled forward in the snow, recovered himself. The world was quiet
and deathly still. Kamela stood beside him, tense and erect, ears
raised and eyes searching. They had wandered into a recession between
wooded hills, where the snow was thick and visibility difficult. A pine
branch released its burden of white, and suddenly he felt it too. They
were being watched. He had led them into an ambush.....
A dark shape flitted between trees on the eastern slope. A low,
impatient growling was heard. Kalus drew his sword to make a stand, but
Kamela would not let him. She bolted toward the slope even as a rush of
movement erupted there. Two thin and ravening wolves, along with three
hyenas, broke from cover and began to converge upon the line she made,
straight for them.
Her motive was simple. Her own life meant nothing, and the man-child
need not die. Also, there was the chance for revenge. She ran toward
death free and unafraid.
Kalus hesitated, unsure of enemies behind, and by the time he turned and
made up his mind to follow, it was too late. They were upon her,
harrying and tearing in a scene made horrible and slow-motion by the
snow. Yet somehow she snarled free and lunged at one of the wolves, who
had stumbled.
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