A delirium of fever had come over her
from the tumultuous passage of the rapids and the sea, but in her
excited state she was not calm or rational enough to realize it.
Kalus gave her water and tried to cool her burning forehead, telling her
in no uncertain terms that they would not go one step further until she
had caught her breath, and let him do something about the gash on her
knee---the result of a fall---which she kept insisting was nothing.
NOTHING?
But she hardly heard him, unable to master her emotions. She knew where
she was, mentally, but this drab physical assurance helped not at all.
Why in the name of all that was dark, mysterious and unfathomable was
she here, ten thousand years removed from the time and world she had
known? And who was this half wild man who tended her, and the
bewildered animal that licked her hand in half-formed worry and
confusion? KALUS. ALASKA. NEW YORK. What were they but names? What
was this place, truly, but the untouchable Land of the Dead, which the
sun had somehow invaded.
As her breath came easier the thoughts slowed and became less feverish,
but did not change in character. Her body ached. She felt lonely and
numb and afraid. Yet somehow she grew calmer, feeling that if once she
looked into Kalus' eyes the world would again become comprehensible,
if still cruel and unfair.
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