Deeply relieved at still being alive, Sharon breathed in a long breath and, letting it out, stepped a foot upon the path leading upward. That's when the awful yelp of an Indian war whoop spilt through the air. It sounded close to her, and, spinning around, she beheld a horse and its rider speeding toward her.
Momentarily, she was struck with the unreality of what was taking place. The rider on the horse was a huge man, was painted in black stripes covering his face, and, below his shoulders, he looked to be naked. The sight sickened her.
It was a reality she could not believe was happening to her, and one she had hoped to never experience in this strange and foreign land. Watching with horror as the man—looking more fiend than warrior—raced toward her, she felt as though this were no more than a nightmare and she merely needed to awaken and the awful sight would be gone. But, as he came closer and closer, she realized this was no dream.
As quickly as possible, she threw off the blanket and ran up the path, her screams for help loud to her ears. But, no help was to be seen or experienced this morning.
Again she wondered, Where is David?
As the enemy darted toward her, she suddenly discovered she possessed a spark of courage, and, realizing that fleeing would do her no good—she could not outrun a horse—she stopped her flight. She would take her stand here.
She turned then to watch the big ugly warrior ride toward her as though he would knock her down and kill her with one simple movement of his lance. Oddly, she wondered if the man would fetch a good price for her scalp because of the unusual coloring of her hair. It was strange because she felt suddenly unafraid. Indeed, if David were dead and if this were to be the place where she would die too, she would face the event with as little flinching as possible. After all, death came unto all creatures upon this earth. She wished, however, that the event weren't happening to her so soon in this life.
Even though the warrior's actions were quick, it seemed to her as if the events taking place around her were in slow motion, giving her more than enough time to consider her own death. After all, mightn't death be preferable to being taken captive by an enemy? Hopefully, the end of her would be quick and with as little pain as possible.
She watched as though from above herself as the horse continued to speed toward her, and, coming right upon her, the warrior's big arm came out to grab hold of her. She was jerked upward and thrown before her captor onto his racing steed; she faced downward as the awful scent of a sweat-drenched man and horseflesh made her gag. It was a painful position; she had been thrown onto her stomach, and, closing her eyes, she prayed to God for a quick death and an everlasting salvation.
It was her last thought before, thankfully, she lost all consciousness.
