His tale was over, a
tragedy.
On the third day he asked for a sip of water, told the girl that he
loved her, and asked her to forgive him. She said nothing and he went
to sleep, expecting never to be wakened in this world again.
*
But just as the spirit is not slave to the body, neither does the body
cease to function simply because the will commands it. Though he had
given up on life, life had not yet given up on him. Death, if he truly
desired it, wasn't going to be that easy.
Chapter 23
The night was bitter and stark, with hard stars like countless
pin-pricks staring lidless upon the Earth. The world itself was equally
sharp, trees frozen, rocks cracking with the cold. But one creature,
not yet versed in Night's supremacy, struggled on against the icy
stillness.
The yearling tiger moved drunkenly forward, at intervals collapsing upon
its injured hind leg. Weak from hunger and loss of blood, the dizziness
was becoming chronic. It lay for a time where it had fallen, licking
the hard snow and fighting, instinctively, to remain conscious. Though
born to withstand the numbing cold there were other dangers, and death,
a thing it did not understand but instinctively feared, was not far off.
Somehow it had wandered into a cleft between high walls.
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