And as it growlingly surveyed them with but a moment's
consideration, the tiger recognized his old enemy.
Fear rose instantly in the man-child, but stronger was his cornered
rage. A mindless brute, who knew nothing of his struggles and
yearnings, blindly sought to steal what had cost him so dearly, and in
so doing, rend or even kill both himself and his closest companions.
Knowing that to run would be the greater danger, and goaded by his
passion, he lifted his spear and cried out in fury, standing his ground
and preparing for the inevitable charge. The tiger seemed to feel much
the same emotion, for it too snarled threateningly, and even began to
move forward.
But in the dim perceptions of the monster there also burned dark fires.
This land was his, as was any in which he walked, and he would not be
defied. His victory over the tiger still lived in him, and the
man-child was beyond his experience. He was a prince of power, and
aggression his only creed. Coming close in short, growling breaths, he
raised up his quivering bulk for battle, and on his hind legs advanced
toward the tiger.
Whatever the poetic or philosophical may say, in Nature, as well as in
Man's darkened nature, strength is often (and only) by cornered
strength defeated. As the full eight-foot carriage of the bear began to
lower toward the mortal and extinguishable flesh of his friend, Kalus
felt the terrible white fire that lives in every creature whose dearest
are threatened, take hold of him.
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