Savage Illusions

In a da­ze, he mo­un­ted his hor­se aga­in. With his he­ad han­ging and his he­art and so­ul empty, he sent his hor­se up the si­de of the ste­ep in­c­li­ne aga­in. Su­rely Two Rid­ges wo­uld be the­re now, wa­iting for him. It ma­de no sen­se that his fri­end wo­uld le­ave him at such a ti­me.

If ever Spot­ted Eag­le ne­eded a fri­end, it was now.

Finally back on so­lid gro­und, the sha­dows of the fo­rest on one si­de of him, the she­er cliff on the ot­her, Spot­ted Eag­le pla­ced a hand over his eyes to shi­eld them from the blin­ding rays of the sun, scan­ning the land for his fri­end.

Again his jaw tig­h­te­ned, now se­e­ing Two Rid­ges as a co­ward, one who ro­de from de­ath in­s­te­ad of lo­oking it stra­ight in the eye!

But too ca­ught up in sad­ness, Spot­ted Eag­le ga­ve Two Rid­ges no mo­re tho­ught and ro­de off with hun­c­hed sho­ul­ders to­ward his vil­la­ge.

Never had he felt so alo­ne as now. It was as tho­ugh he had lost Swe­et Do­ve a se­cond ti­me­and he knew that this ti­me he wo­uld ne­ver get over the loss!

Chapter Nineteen

Moaning, her who­le body ac­hing, Jole­na slowly ope­ned her eyes. The em­bers of a fi­re glo­wed warm be­si­de her and the aro­ma of co­oked rab­bit waf­ted to her no­se from the spit it hung on, low over the fi­re, drip­ping its tan­ta­li­zing ju­ices in­to the glo­wing co­als be­ne­ath it.

Feeling aro­und her with her hands, she so­on re­ali­zed that she was lying on a la­yer of blan­kets.

Her ga­ze mo­ved up­ward, but she co­uld see no stars, no sky, no mo­on.

"Where am I?" she whis­pe­red, le­aning up on one el­bow, mo­aning aga­in as she re­ali­zed how much mo­re she ac­hed with the ef­fort of mo­ving. How did she get he­re? Why was she ac­hing so badly?

Moving slowly to a sit­ting po­si­ti­on, she lo­oked mo­re ca­re­ful­ly aro­und her. When she spi­ed so­me­one lying ac­ross the fi­re from her, ob­vi­o­usly as­le­ep, she suc­ked in a wild bre­ath of re­li­ef, thin­king it was Spot­ted Eag­le.

Her sigh drew Two Rid­ges awa­ke, and he bol­ted to a sit­ting po­si­ti­on, re­mem­be­ring that he had not bo­und Jole­na's wrists and an­k­les. She wo­uld not ha­ve had a chan­ce to flee him whi­le he sta­yed awa­ke, gu­ar­ding her, but he had not co­un­ted on be­ing we­ary eno­ugh to go to sle­ep so easily.

When he saw that the fi­re had di­ed down only to em­bers, he re­ali­zed just how long he had be­en as­le­ep.

Too long.

He was lucky that Jole­na was still the­re.

Jolena gas­ped and grab­bed a blan­ket pro­tec­ti­vely aro­und her when she dis­co­ve­red that she was not with Spot­ted Eag­le at all! She was sta­ring over the em­bers at Two Rid­ges.

Her pul­se ra­ced as fe­ar crept in­to her he­art, and she lo­oked wildly aro­und her, re­ali­zing that she was in a ca­ve, with no me­mory at all of how she might ha­ve got­ten the­re.

Not se­e­ing any sign of Spot­ted Eag­le an­y­w­he­re, Jole­na gla­red over at Two Rid­ges. "I do not ha­ve to ask how I got he­re," she sa­id in a hiss. "You bro­ught me. How co­uld Spot­ted Eag­le ha­ve al­lo­wed it? Whe­re is he now?"

Before Two Rid­ges had the chan­ce to res­pond, what had hap­pe­ned du­ring the storm be­gan co­ming to Jole­na in flas­hes, as tho­ugh bolts of lig­h­t­ning we­re go­ing off and on in­si­de her bra­in. Each flash bro­ught up new me­mo­ri­es that ma­de her he­art se­em to stop still wit­hin her body and her thro­at to con­s­t­rict. Ever­y­t­hing was so vi­vid to her in her mind's eye that she co­uld not scre­am or even talk.

The blin­ding ra­in!

The lu­rid flas­hes of lig­h­t­ning!

The frig­h­te­ned, wild-eyed mu­les!

Her scre­ams as she wat­c­hed the ot­her wa­gons plun­ging over the si­des of the cliff.

She held her fa­ce in her hands as she be­gan sob­bing. Then so­met­hing el­se ca­me to her, flo­oding her me­mory. She tho­ught she had felt strong arms aro­und her wa­ist, drag­ging her from the wa­gon just be­fo­re it top­pled over the cliff.

But she now re­ali­zed it had to ha­ve be­en a sa­va­ge il­lu­si­on. The mo­ment she hit the gro­und, she had be­en knoc­ked un­con­s

­ci­o­us from the for­ce of the fall.

She lif­ted sor­row­ful eyes up at Two Rid­ges, unab­le to re­mem­ber who had sa­ved her.

"Who el­se sur­vi­ved but the two of us?" she de­man­ded, mo­ving to her kne­es, yet still clut­c­hing the blan­ket aro­und her sho­ul­ders. "Two Rid­ges, tell me who li­ved… and who di­ed."

Two Rid­ges mo­ved to his fe­et and step­ped aro­und the fi­re, squ­at­ting down on­to his ha­un­c­hes be­fo­re her. "We are the only sur­vi­vors," he sa­id, the lie slip­ping ac­ross his lips easi­er than he wo­uld ha­ve ima­gi­ned. "I ha­ve bro­ught you to a ca­ve. I ha­ve bu­ilt you a fi­re for warmth and ha­ve pre­pa­red fo­od for you. Per­haps it is best now if you eat, not talk. You will ne­ed yo­ur strength to tra­vel on­ward to my vil­la­ge."