Page 83 of The Last Warrior

She didn’t respond, but then, he hadn’t expected her to.

Chapter

Twenty-One

Lightning crashed above her, around her, the acrid scent lending the air the sickening odor of poisonous gas. She stood defenseless in the middle of the prairie. Thunder sounded from all directions. It cracked the eardrums, it tested one’s courage, and she cowered before its power. A man—or was he a god, for he was half blue, half gray—stepped toward her.

He was laughing. “I will kill him,” said the god.

“No!”

The god laughed. “I have bested better than he.”

“No!” she cried again.

“Go back from whence you came. You are not wanted here; you do not belong here.”

Lifting her chin, she said, “I belong with my husband. I always will. It is you who is out of place. Go!”

“I belong everywhere,” said the god, “for I am the Thunderer.”

She could think of nothing to retaliate, since this was obviously the truth. And so she spoke the only words she could think of, and she yelled out, “Why do you wish me to go?”

The Thunderer said simply, “Because you are a danger to me.”

“I? I? How can I be a danger to you? You, who are a god?”

The Thunderer laughed. “You will have to discover this for yourself. Or perhaps I should kill you, first.”

He lifted his hand to do so…

Suzette gasped and sat up as though shot from a gun. She was alone.

Where was Black Lion? Was he all right? Was he in danger?

Sunlight streamed into their shelter from between the cracks in the branches. Her pulse was racing, and she inhaled pine-scented air on a deep breath, calming herself.

Glancing around the environment, she took stock of where she was. She was not out in the open, and she was not confronting the Thunderer. She was in a shelter. There was no storm here, and no reason to be concerned.

The dream had seemed very real. But it’s only a dream, she told herself.

Still, her emotions were running rampant, urging her into action—to leave here to find Black Lion, if only to ease her mind that he was all right.

As if she had conjured him up by her thoughts, Black Lion appeared at the entrance of their shelter, squeezing in through the tight entryway. Seeing her sitting up and alert, he said, “Hau, it is good you are awake, for this day is a pretty one and…” He frowned at her. “Is something wrong?”

“No. But I admit, I am happy to see you.”

“Happy?” His look at her was doubtful.

“Yes, I am happy,” she defended, then she sighed. “But I am hungry. Have you any pemmican or water or other meat or berries I might eat?”

He nodded and reached for the food, which he always kept in a rawhide bag. He gave her a handful, a prize she gladly accepted.

“Hmmm, this is good. Did you make this?”

“Hiya, no. Rabbit Leggings made it.”

“Ah, Rabbit Leggings again.”