Savage Illusions

"This is what you wo­uld do whi­le yo­ur best fri­end li­es de­ad?" Jole­na cri­ed, stric­ken with a sud­den fe­ar when she ga­zed up in­to eyes that we­re an­y­t­hing but fri­endly.

She sho­ved at his chest. "Why are you do­ing this to me?" she cri­ed. "Ple­ase let me go. Ple­ase don't do this!"

"I can­not stop myself from wan­ting you," Two Rid­ges sa­id, a stran­g­led sob le­aping from his thro­at.

His ga­ze mo­ved over her fa­ce, sud­denly re­ali­zing aga­in that the­re was so­met­hing abo­ut her that was too fa­mi­li­ar.

This ma­de him co­me to his sen­ses.

He mo­ved qu­ickly away from Jole­na, then sha­me­ful­ly hung his fa­ce in his hands.

Too frig­h­te­ned to trust his sud­den chan­ge of mo­od, Jole­na knew that she must not ta­ke any chan­ce of his chan­ging his mind aga­in and con­ti­nu­ing with his plan of ra­ping her.

Wildly, she ga­zed aro­und her for so­met­hing with which to pro­tect her­self aga­inst this Blac­k­fo­ot In­di­an se­emingly cra­zed by ru­na­way lusts and de­si­res!

Breathing hard, her eyes fell upon a rock ne­ar whe­re she sat.

Without any fur­t­her tho­ught, she grab­bed the rock and bro­ught it down hard upon Two Rid­ges' he­ad.

When the rock ma­de con­tact with his skull, Jole­na re­co­iled and lo­oked away.

When she slowly tur­ned her eyes aro­und a mo­ment la­ter, Two Rid­ges lay per­fectly qu­i­et be­si­de the fi­re. Jole­na co­ve­red her mo­uth with her hands, gas­ping as she sta­red at him. His eyes we­re clo­sed. Blo­od was cur­ling down ac­ross his brow from the wo­und she had in­f­lic­ted on his he­ad.

He was bre­at­hing ras­pily.

"I've got to get out of he­re," Jole­na sa­id, lo­oking des­pe­ra­tely aro­und her. She ga­zed aga­in at Two Rid­ges, then gul­ped back a fast-for­ming knot in her thro­at. What if he di­ed? She hadn't wan­ted to kill him. Why had he for­ced her to do this ter­rib­le thing to him?

She mo­ved sha­kily to her fe­et and be­gan in­c­hing bac­k­ward, away from Two Rid­ges, fe­aring mo­re that he might wa­ke up than that he sho­uld not wa­ke up at all.

He had re­ason now to do mo­re than ra­pe her.

He might even kill her!

&n

bsp; Remembering the dan­gers that lur­ked in the fo­rest, and re­ali­zing that she co­uld wan­der alo­ne for days be­fo­re fin­ding any sort of ci­vi­li­za­ti­on, Jole­na stop­ped and ga­zed down at Two Rid­ges' kni­fe. She was af­ra­id to try and get it, fe­aring that he might wa­ke up the very mo­ment she was le­aning down over him. She clo­sed her eyes at the tho­ught of him grab­bing her and for­cing him­self on her aga­in!

Then she ope­ned her eyes aga­in slowly, kno­wing that her li­fe now de­pen­ded on her ta­king many risks.

Leaning down, she mo­ved her trem­b­ling fin­gers to Two Rid­ges' she­at­hed kni­fe at his right si­de. She wat­c­hed his eyes as she qu­ickly grab­bed the han­d­le and bro­ught the kni­fe out of its she­ath.

Her he­art thum­ping wildly, Jole­na tur­ned her at­ten­ti­on to the fo­od drip­ping its ju­ices in­to the fi­re. Her mo­uth wa­te­red sud­denly for she had not re­ali­zed un­til this mo­ment just how hungry she was.

"To sur­vi­ve, I must eat," she whis­pe­red, step­ping up to the brow­ned mor­sel, very de­li­be­ra­te- ly cut­ting se­ve­ral wi­de strips of the me­at away, then thrus­ting them in­to the depths of her skirt poc­ket.

"And warmth," she whis­pe­red, spying the blan­kets upon which Two Rid­ges still lay. She must ta­ke at le­ast one of tho­se blan­kets.

With one hand, she po­ised the kni­fe abo­ve Two Rid­ges, re­ady for the de­ath plun­ge sho­uld he awa­ken whi­le she was slowly rol­ling his body off the blan­kets.

When he was suc­ces­sful­ly mo­ved over on­to his sto­mach, his fa­ce po­in­ting away from Jole­na, she grab­bed the blan­ket, then to­ok off in a mad dash to­ward whe­re she tho­ught the mo­uth of the ca­ve might be.

The pitch dar­k­ness of the ca­vern slo­wed her es­ca­pe. She fo­und her way by ke­eping her back aga­inst the one si­de of the ca­ve and in­c­hing her­self along. She was glad when she fi­nal­ly saw the light of the mo­on as it ma­de a path of sil­ver just in­si­de the en­t­ran­ce of the ca­ve.

Jolena bro­ke in­to a run aga­in, te­ars fil­ling her eyes with re­ne­wed tho­ughts of Spot­ted Eag­le and Kirk. She felt empty with lo­ne­li­ness.

How co­uld she be­ar such los­ses? Her fu­tu­re was ble­ak. Wit­ho­ut Spot­ted Eag­le's arms and strength to gu­ide her in­to the fu­tu­re, how co­uld she exist?

She felt use­less now, ut­terly use­less.