Sheathing
his sword, he spoke its name and began to advance toward it.
But at this the tiger turned away curiously, as if to retreat. Once
more he gestured and spoke to it, but upon trying to come closer the
result was the same.
'I think he wants me to follow him. I don't understand his
urgency, but I think that I should. Will you be all right?'
'Yes. Be careful. What about Alaska?'
'Keep her here with you, until I find out what he's trying to tell
me.' Turning one last time. 'I love you.'
'Go on, will you? And watch where you're going, you're going
to break your neck.'
'All right. Goodbye.' He slowly disappeared among the shadows of
the gorge.
*
The tiger had begun by leading him southward along the bottom of the
gorge. He kept waiting for it to turn away westward, or double back
upon its tracks, since the sandstone hills that formed the southern
border of his world were the unsleeping realm of the mountain cats. And
though the tiger was the match of any unaltered creature of the winter
forests, these powerful, saber-toothed throwbacks were not to be tested.
And at the point where the sandstone and granite ridges met..... He
could not even think about that. With every step he became more leery,
and whispered as loudly as he dared for the tiger to stop and turn back.
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