Page 31 of Savage Illusions

Kirk stop­ped in mid-step, his eyes wild. "Jole­na," he whis­pe­red, his thro­at so sud­denly dry he co­uld scar­cely bre­at­he. "Jole­na…"

Chapter Thirteen

Spotted Eag­le had just ar­ri­ved at the cam­p­si­te when he saw Two Rid­ges en­ter the fo­rest. When Spot­ted Eag­le dis­mo­un­ted and dis­co­ve­red that ne­it­her Jole­na nor Kirk we­re among tho­se bus­ying them­sel­ves aro­und the fi­re he con­c­lu­ded that per­haps Two Rid­ges was fol­lo­wing Jole­na and her brot­her to pro­tect them whi­le they ex­p­lo­red.

Spotted Eag­le re­cal­led the cliff ne­arby and his he­art skip­ped a be­at. Qu­ickly se­cu­ring his re­ins, he glan­ced to­ward the fo­rest aga­in, whe­re he had last se­en Two Rid­ges.

Then, wit­ho­ut sa­ying an­y­t­hing to an­y­body, he bro­ke in­to a hard run. He felt slightly re­li­eved when he fi­nal­ly re­ac­hed the slo­pe of land that wo­uld le­ad him up to the cliff. Jole­na was now­he­re in sight. Nor was her brot­her, or Two Rid­ges. Per­haps they had go­ne anot­her way.

Suddenly an eag­le ro­se in­to the air with a sna­ke which so­on drop­ped from its claws and es­ca­ped. Spot­ted Eag­le felt that was a bad omen. The lo­we­ring sun, too, was pa­in­ted with sun dog­sa su­re war­ning that dan­ger was ne­ar!

Then a mind-shat­te­ring scre­am sud­denly pi­er­ced the air, star­t­ling Spot­ted Eag­le.

His in­si­des grew cold when he he­ard Kirk sho­uting Jole­na's na­me.

"Hai- yah!" Spot­ted Eag­le cri­ed in des­pa­ir, kno­wing what had hap­pe­ned.

His wo­man!

Just as he had fe­ared, she was in dan­ger!

She might even now be de­ad, for he had he­ard but only her one scre­am and the sho­ut of her brot­her.

Now ever­y­t­hing was too qu­i­et!

Almost blin­ded with fe­ar, Spot­ted Eag­le ra­ced up the hill. When he re­ac­hed the sum­mit, his eyes shif­ted from Kirk to Two Rid­ges, who we­re stan­ding, mo­ti­on­less, the­ir eyes wi­de as they pe­ered over the si­des of the cliff.

Spotted Eag­le's he­art se­emed to plum­met to his fe­et, af­ra­id now to lo­ok over the cliff, fe­aring that he wo­uld see not­hing but the crash of the wa­ter­fall and the whir­l­po­ols be­low. If his wo­man had fal­len in­to the ri­ver, she wo­uld not sur­vi­ve the fall, much less the po­wer­ful sur­ges of the wa­ter.

His jaw tight, his thro­at dry, Spot­ted Eag­le rus­hed to the ed­ge of the cliff, ro­ughly ed­ging him­self bet­we­en Two Rid­ges and Kirk. When he ga­zed dow­n­ward, si­lently pra­ying to the fi­res of the sun that his wo­man had so­me­how li­ved thro­ugh the fall, he gas­ped at what he saw.

" Wo- ka-hit, lis­ten to my ple­as," he pra­yed des­pe­ra­tely to the fi­res of the sun. "Do not let my wo­man die."