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Updated: May 22, 2025
Kamela could, therefore, pray intelligently to that Great Spirit through His Son, who died for the sins of the whole world, for protection and support. Not often has a person been placed in greater peril than was that young Indian woman. On the evening of the third day, just as she had reached the brow of a hill, she saw galloping towards her a band of warriors.
As Sylviana read to him the last chapter of Hemingway, the futility of life congealed into a single, inescapable blade that no longer hovered at a distance, but stood poised like a needle above his heart. All was black, and like Kamela before him the very throbbing of his heart, with its surges of love and hope was the final, crushing despair.
The others tore into her side and back legs, but her teeth had found their mark, and her last desire was fulfilled. The brutal Armus, black wolf of Shar-hai's guard, fell gasping and bleeding, his throat cut. As Kamela surrendered willingly to death. She was gone, and Kalus knew it, and the worst part was that his mind had already begun to accept it.
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.
And he was ready to quit when he remembered Kamela, and knew that he must fight a while longer. Then sensing his weakness, Shar-hai reached a foreleg across him as they rose, and with all his weight and strength crushed him to the ground against a jutting stone. Akar gave a short yelp of pain as he landed and something in his shoulder gave way. And he knew he could rise no more.
In this way he bought time for Kamela, holding off the death clash as long as he could. But soon, as he knew he would, Akar began to tire. His lunges at the legs and ribs of his opponent had done little damage, while the constant pounding on his own neck and chest had begun to take its toll. Rising together yet again he remained there, suspended, and aimed for the throat.
But from things I have learned, and from things I knew before, I think I can tell you this much. He shifted positions, trying to lessen the discomfort in the small of his back. 'For Kamela, I believe her tragedy was two-fold. First, if I read the signs right -I knew something of the pack before the coming of the Changed One -I believe that Akar was her first love.
In another minute, Michel, one of the hunters, staggered into her hut, fearfully wounded. No sooner had he entered, than he sank on the ground gasping for breath. "Fly!" he said; "they are both dead your husband and Thomas. The Blackfleet have done it. Take the horses ride direct to McDonald's fort tell him Oh! this pain! water, good Kamela!"
Kamela, or the "Young Fawn," the name given to the damsel selected by La Touche, had been well trained to endure all the hardships and privations to which a hunter's wife is invariably exposed. The usual ceremonies having been gone through, the young Kamela went to La Touche's tent, and became his most loving and devoted wife.
Climbing ever closer up the path, he smiled at her with half his face, and reaching the parapet, passed by her and went inside. The pup, roused from its attentions to a small bone, wagged its tail and ran to greet him as always. Akar sat up gingerly on his two furs near the back of the enclosure. Kamela was off somewhere alone. The girl rose after a time, ducked her head and followed him in.
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