Genesis

By Joseph Youngblood

Two lovers from different races in pre-history India meet in a time of danger and fall in love. They share a life of adventure but eventually die. Though separated by death, their spirits live again at various times throughout history, though never together.

When they are finally reunited, it is a time of disaster for humankind. Humanity has advanced far enough to destroy itself, and it does. A nuclear accident triggers a global conflict between superpowers that destroys humanity along with almost all life on Earth.

The lovers, reincarnated in the twenty-first century are selected to be placed into suspended animation and sent on a journey through space and time. Their task is to return to Earth in a distant future and reestablish life on the planet. They accomplish this with the help of a converted Space Schuttle, a Space Station and microcomputers implanted in their bodies to enhances their physical and mental abilities and prolong their lives.

To succeed in their mission, they must find ways to overcome loneliness, hardship, and danger from radiation mutated decedents of humankind who are now the dominate species on Earth.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Mar 2, 2009
• ISBN: 9781469107165

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Copyright © 2009 by Joseph Youngblood.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in

any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying,

recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without

permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the

product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance

to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

This book was printed in the United States of America.

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Contents

FOREWORD

CHAPTER ONE

In the Beginning

CHAPTER TWO

The Warrior Prince

CHAPTER THREE

Long Live the King and Queen

CHAPTER FOUR

A New Time

CHAPTER FIVE

War

CHAPTER SIX

The Plan

CHAPTER SEVEN

A Man and a Woman

CHAPTER EIGHT

Just a Machine

CHAPTER NINE

The Awakening

CHAPTER TEN

Preparations

CHAPTER ELEVEN

A New Beginning

CHAPTER TWELVE

Welcome Trouble

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Settling In

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

The Ordeal

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Training

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Evelyn

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

To Live As One

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Into Danger

CHAPTER NINETEEN

First Contact

CHAPTER TWENTY

A Fight to the Finish

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

All in a Days Work

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

The Unknown

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

War

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

The Beginning

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Rebuilding

Loss is always the price of love

And no one is immune.

If you meet someone and give your heart

Your heart will pay its dues.

(Author)

FOREWORD

Some things just seem to go together; the full moon and a chilly evening sky in autumn; the smell of bacon frying on a cold winter morning; Robins and springtime; and last but certainly not least, diamonds; silk; and beautiful women. These are only a few examples and almost anyone could name more.

Of course, the moon is often visible, even during the day. Yet, seen during the day, it seems strange and somehow out-of-place. However, that same moon, when viewed on a frosty autumn evening, is a glorious sight, a sight that has inspired poets, writers and lovers for centuries beyond counting.

Bacon is just bacon. It is cooked the same way all year round. However, its’ smell on a cold winter morning is especially tantalizing.

Robins are always Robins, they just seem more right in the springtime.

Moreover, silks, diamonds and beautiful women are a combination that has driven men and nations to the brink of disaster and beyond—or to new heights of glory—for centuries.

There are many other examples: the first cup of hot coffee on a cold morning; trout jumping in a quiet mountain lake; and on and on.

The point is that some things, and some people, really do go together and all the efforts of men to separate them are useless.

This is the story of two such people. It is a story of love that spans the ages and will not die, love unhindered by geographical boundaries and love that does not recognize national boundaries or racial taboos. Finally, it is a story of love fulfilled in spite of time or disaster or the interference of men or technology.

CHAPTER ONE

In the Beginning

The forest was silent and empty. Animals should have been going about their business among the trees and in the underbrush, but there were none. The forest was damp, depressing, and ominous, as if a terrible and evil presence moved in the gloom beneath the trees. The creatures of the forest floor seemed to cower in their secret hiding places hoping that the evil would pass them by. Hoping that, by their very silence, they might remain unnoticed to live another day.

In truth, there was a terrible presence in the forest, a huge, snarling, yellow and black striped tiger. Yet, the beast did not feel evil. It felt the biting and unrelenting pangs of hunger.

The great cat had not eaten for days and was desperate. This desperation drove it onward, allowing no time for rest. However, movement requires energy and, in living beings, energy requires food. But there had been no food in many days and the cat’s great strength was beginning to fade.

There had been a time when the beast had not known hunger, but that was a time when it was younger and stronger. Then, every leap had been sure; a single snap of its powerful jaws had meant another meal; a swipe of its huge paw had broken the back of many animals, even the fierce buffalo.

As a young animal, the tiger had been swift of foot and strong of limb. Its’ needle sharp teeth and powerful jaws had ended the life of hundreds of the beasts of the forest and grasslands. It had grown strong on the flesh of its kills.

Nevertheless, each leap and each kill requires time, the unforgiving and overpowering master of all that lives. Time is an unrelenting enemy that has never known defeat from living flesh, and even a mighty tiger is not immune.

Time had passed for the tiger and it was no longer young. Though not old by human standards, the great cat was old by tiger standards. Humans do not depend upon fleetness of foot or powerful jaws for survival as do tigers. By those standards, a carelessly placed paw could snap a twig. An ill-timed leap could miss the kill. Worn teeth might fail to reach the jugular vein quickly enough or sever the spine, allowing the prey to escape.

All of this had been happening with increasing frequency for the tiger. To be sure, it was still a terrifying engine of destruction by the standards of man or animal. Yet, it was not as silent or as swift as in its’ younger days.

Certainly, it was still strong enough to bring down and kill even the larger and more powerful of the jungle beasts, if it could catch them. Lately it had not been able to catch them. Because of this, it was forced to hunt the smaller and weaker animals, and these were often the fleetest of foot and the most cautious of all.

The tiger had tried yesterday to make a kill. It had lain in the high grass next to the game path for hours—desperately waiting for something, anything, to come along. Instinct had assured it that something would eventually come, and stillness required little energy.

The strategy proved correct for, eventually, the waiting hunter was alerted by the sounds of rustling leaves and grunts of an animal on the trail. Soon the tiger identified the scent of a savage jungle boar wafting to it in the slight breeze of the jungle floor. The smell excited the beast and caused dripping strands of saliva to run from its mouth.

The tiger had carefully placed itself in the tall grass next to the trail and the scant breeze was blowing from the boar to the waiting beast. The boar was unaware of the danger as it moved along the trail, occasionally stopping to root its’ nose in the moist leaves on the ground along the path.

However, hunger is a terrible master and the tiger had not eaten for many days. When the boar was almost within striking distance, the great cat lost patience. In preparing for the spring, it shifted weight. A carelessly placed foot snapped a dried twig and the startled boar turned and leaped away with a grunt and a squeal of fright.

The tiger hurtled from its hiding place and landed upon the back of the fleeing animal. The leap, however, lacked the swiftness and strength of earlier times. Instead of landing fully upon the fleeing animals’ back, the tiger landed on its’ churning hindquarters.

Boar and tiger went down in a swirling cloud of leaves, twigs and dirt. However, the boar, terrified by the nearness of death, was quicker to its feet.

Not only had the tiger’s leap been faulty, its grip on the stricken animal was not what it once would have been. Worn talons failed to penetrate deeply enough into the tough hide. The boar broke free and bounded away to safety among the nearby trees, leaving the tiger to roar its frustration and rage to an uncaring world.

That was yesterday. Today the great beast was a day hungrier and a day angrier. Hunger gnawed at its insides and its’ empty belly demanded food. That demand, it seemed, would go unfulfilled. The cat was desperate and ready to attack anything that crossed its’ path.

In that mood, it chanced upon the scent of another creature, a creature it might have avoided under other conditions. Yet, these were not normal conditions for the beast and the scent of man was an invitation to eat instead of a warning of danger. The old tiger was starving to death and hunger, like time, is uncaring. Hunger forced the beast to follow the scent until it came to a small clearing in the forest.

*     *     *

The jungle was thick with brush, but feeding animals and time had left the grass in the clearing close cropped. It seemed an idyllic place. A carpet of grass and flowers spread across the open space and bees buzzed busily among the brightly colored flowers. Shafts of golden sunlight split the gloom and little speckles of dust and pollen glittered in the light.

The magical scene was wasted on the hungry tiger; for in the middle of the clearing, unaware of the danger, a young woman picked herbs and flowers to fill a basket at her feet.

It was quiet and still in the clearing. The day was growing old, and the afternoon sun was hot on the young woman’s back as she bent over the basket. She did not notice the heat because of her preoccupation with the events of the morning.

It had been a particularly upsetting morning and the process of sorting things out in her mind required all of her attention.

*     *     *

As a young girl, Anjou had learned from her mother of the jungle plants that were useful for medicines and those that were harmful. Having an observant nature and a quick and active mind, she had added to this knowledge through her own observations of the plants eaten by the animals as well as those they avoided.

This was knowledge available to, but unknown by, others in her village and, though very young, Anjou was held in awe by many. Some of them had even started to say that her knowledge, and the power it gave her, was unnatural. Some of those who were more jealous of her power suggested that it must be based in the dark secrets of witchcraft.

Until this morning, those with such thoughts had only voiced them in whispers, if they dared speak at all. However, this morning one of the village cows had died.

Cows, at the very least, were a valuable resource for the villagers and there had been no apparent reason for the death of this one.

The animals provided milk and butter; they carried great loads and their flesh provided food. Even their dung could be burned to cook the food. The animals were of such importance to her people that some were even beginning to worship them. To be accused, justly or unjustly, for the loss of such an important beast was a very serious matter.

One of the villagers had suggested that the death of this cow might be punishment from the gods for something evil in their midst. Moreover, it required little imagination for the other villagers to reach the conclusion that Anjou was the source of that evil.

*     *     *

There was no evil in Anjou. She was just a very observant and intelligent young girl who happened to have been born in the wrong place at the wrong time.

In another age, she might have laughed at such an accusation. However, she lived in a village in what would be, in later centuries, Southern India. Sickness was common in those times and she was an only child whose family had died several years before. It was her knowledge of plants that provided a means of livelihood for her. With this knowledge, she brewed and sold teas and potions to the villagers. Now this very knowledge might be her downfall.

At first, the villagers had only muttered angrily about casting her out. As the day grew hotter, however, they began to talk openly about sacrifices to mollify the angry gods.

It was in that atmosphere that Anjou had gone into the forest to gather plants and herbs. She hoped the villagers would have calmed down by the time she returned because she did not want to be that sacrifice.

Anjou spent much of her time in the forest and knew its ways well. She loved the animals and considered them friends. To her every one of the creatures was special and she was careful not to harm them. She even tried to avoid stepping on the many insects that made their home in the decaying vegetation littering the forest floor.

Though the forest was a well-known friend she was well aware that it also held danger for the unwary. In normal times she was alert to its’ many changing moods. However, these were not normal times for her. Preoccupied with her troubles, she failed to notice the silence that descended over the forest with the arrival of the tiger. She did not feel the depressing sense of evil that preceded the great cat like a dark cloud before the storm. If she did notice such feelings, she attributed them to her own personal troubles.

*     *     *

The clearing was one of her favorite places. It was small, open, and brightly lit. There was only one tree and very few large rocks, little on which to stumble. However, there was also no place in which to find refuge. However, she had never had reason to be concerned with that.

In addition to the carpet of grass and flowers, the clearing had an abundant supply of a special plant Anjou needed for a potion she was making. She worked quickly and, though preoccupied with her thoughts, soon had her basket half filled. Looking around for other plants, she was startled by the deep cough that could only come from a large jungle cat.

Too late, she noticed the deadly silence of the forest. Too late, she realized her exposed position in the clearing.

In desperation, she peered into the darkness of the underbrush at the edge of the clearing. She saw nothing at first, but then stared into the cold un-blinking eyes of the tiger.

The beast seemed almost on top of her but was actually at the edge of the clearing, almost fifty feet away. It was just getting ready to start its charge.

Frantically she looked for an avenue of escape, but there was none. The nearest tree was almost as far away as the cat, though in the opposite direction. Even that could not save her for she knew that the deadly cats could and often did climb trees.

However, there really was no choice. Her only chance to live was to get into the small branches at the top of that tree and hope that they were too small to support the weight of the big cat. It seemed futile to try since she could never reach the tree ahead of the beast.

Even in the face of certain death, Anjou did not consider giving up. Taking up her basket, she backed slowly toward the tree, all the while speaking softly and calmly to the tiger. It required all of her courage not to allow panic to take over but she knew that, if she did, the beast would surely charge.

She hoped that by moving slowly and showing no fear, she could delay the charge until she was within running distance of what safety the tree offered.

This tactic did seem to work for a few moments. Perhaps the beast wanted to savor the thought of its’ long delayed meal. Perhaps it was sure the girl could not escape anyway. Who knows what it thought. Even house cats sometimes play with a mouse or a bird before killing it. Perhaps that was what the tiger did as well.

Whatever the reason, Anjou was a good ten feet closer to the tree when, with a blood-chilling roar, the great cat charged.

Even though it had been subsisting on rodents and the remains of kills made by younger and stronger beasts, the tiger was a terrible sight to behold. It was fully twelve feet long from the tip of snout to the end of its’ tail, and it weighed over four hundred pounds. Each great paw was equipped with cruelly sharp talons, now extended for the kill. Its’ wickedly toothed mouth was flecked with foam and dripping with saliva at the thought of the long awaited meal, and the very trees seemed to quake and quiver at the sound of that terrible first roar.

After the first roar, the beast was silent. Like a giant black and gold shadow of death, it sprang across the clearing towards the puny thing that had almost reached the tree.

If it had been a strong and well-fed younger animal, its charge may have been swifter. Had it been a stronger and well-fed younger animal it may not have been after the girl in the first place. However, hunger left no room for caution and it charged on.

It was not young or strong or well fed and its charge was not quite swift enough to catch the fleeing girl before she reached the tree. However, its’ raking talons ripped the flimsy flower basket from her hands as she dodged behind the tree trunk a fraction of a second ahead of the great beast.

Unable to stop its charge, the tiger plunged headlong into the unforgiving and unmoving tree trunk, hitting it with such force as to be momentarily stunned. This momentary respite allowed Anjou just enough time to scramble into the lower branches.

The tiger roared its’ pain, frustration, and rage at the girl as it shook droplets of blood and spittle from its’ bruised snout. She was still only a few feet over its’ head and not yet out of harm’s reach. However, with each passing moment she climbed higher into the branches of the tree.

With a snarl of rage, the great beast sprang into the lower branches.

The tree was huge with many large and spreading limbs close to the ground. This fact made it relatively easy for Anjou to climb, but it was just as easy for the cat to climb after her.

It was slow going for the girl. The flimsy sarong, customarily worn by the women of her community, hampered her movements and made it difficult to climb. The tiger, on the other hand, was far better equipped for this kind of chase. Almost with ease, it leaped from branch to branch. Climbing ever higher until it was directly under the girl. One more leap would bring it onto the limb where she waited.

They were high in the tree by now, up where the limbs were not as large and steady as those closer to the ground. Each movement caused the limbs to sway dangerously, and the ground seemed a long distance below.

The girl crouched on the limb where it joined with the main trunk. She was naked now, having stripped her sarong in order not to impede her climb. She had carried the cloth in her hands as she clambered ever higher into the tree. When the end finally came, she would not even have the thickness of the flimsy material between her smooth ebony skin and the cruel talons of the tiger.

Perhaps if she had removed the cloth earlier she would have been higher in the tree. Perhaps she would have been safe from the raging beast just below her. It was much too late now, for the tiger was ready to scramble onto the limb where she waited.

Though she still carried the flimsy cloth, she realized that it would serve no purpose when the onslaught came. She was ready to discard it when she had an idea. It was a slim hope, but the only one that she had. It would not save her but might give her a few more moments of life. Who knows, in a moment anything might happen. However, she must act quickly.

The tiger was on the limb directly below her, preparing for the leap that would bring her into reach. If the breast had a thought at all, it must surely have been confident of its kill. It must have almost been able to taste the tender flesh.

The girl did an unexpected thing. Instead of trying to continue her escape, she leaned over and spat full into the tigers snarling face.

The saliva did not bother the tiger at all, but the very act of defiance enraged it.

Instead of springing onto the limb with the girl, it reared on its hind legs and tried to rake her with its’ wicked talons. It missed and, in the missing, found itself in a very precarious position. It was standing on its hind legs on a swaying limb high above the earth. It was unbalanced and had to grasp the limb on which the girl waited. Now, instead of raking her with its claws, it could only hang on for dear life.

This was only a momentary situation. It would have lasted only until the great beast regained its balance. However, in that instant, Anjou leaned over, wrapped the flimsy cloth around the beasts snarling head, and shoved outward with all her strength.

The startled cat shook its mighty head and slapped at the cloth with its forepaws. The shredded and tattered wrapping flew off.

The momentary act of clearing the cloth was too much. Unbalanced and unsupported, the cat fell backwards off its perch and plunged towards the ground far below.

It is said that cats never lose their balance; that they always land on their feet. This may be true under most conditions but, as the beast plunged towards the earth, its left hip crashed into a protruding tree limb. No harm was done to the limb or the cat from the contact. Yet this simple event caused the beast to tumble. When it landed, it was not on all four feet as cats usually land. Instead it landed only on its’ front feet, and even these were uneven. There was a loud pop and a tearing sound as the right leg separated from the shoulder joint. The great beast rolled on the ground in rage and pain.

Perhaps somewhere in the recesses of its cruel brain the tiger knew this was the end. Slowed by age and hunger, it had only been able to survive on rodents and carrion. Now, crippled by the separated shoulder, it would not even be able to get that meager fare. It had no choice, it must get the girl in order to live and it could not climb the tree with the injured shoulder. Instinct, however, assured it that, if it could not get to the girl, neither could she get away. If it waited long enough she would be forced by hunger and thirst to come down. When she did, it would be waiting.

CHAPTER TWO

The Warrior Prince

The young hunter was pleased. He had traveled for many weeks and his homeland lay far away to the north. Even so, his hunt had been very successful. Time after time, his arrows or spears had struck deep into the quivering hearts of his pray. Repeatedly he had sent his bearers home, heavy laden with the dried flesh of his kills. The poor of his father’s kingdom would eat well because of his skill as a hunter.

A few days ago, he had sent the last of his bearers’ home and the hunt had ended. Ignoring the protests of his friends, he set off alone towards the unknown south.

This time he was not hunting for animals to kill for he did not kill for sport and did not need the meat. He told himself that it was a desire to explore the unknown that drew him towards this dark and mysterious land to the south of his father’s kingdom. However, this was only a pretext. An unexplainable power seemed to draw him onward with a force he was unable to resist.

His followers bitterly protested his actions, but were powerless to stop him. For in his land he was a well-loved but very powerful prince. Though usually more a friend than a ruler, his word was still the law under which they lived; a word that they must obey.

Therefore, they parted ways, they turning to the north and home while he turned boldly towards the dark and mysterious jungles in the south. They would face the King’s certain wrath that they had left their beloved prince alone in the jungle. He would face the unknown force that drew him onward.

Not for him was the high safe back of the hunting elephant, though many were at his disposal. He walked alone on the jungle paths so that he might be closer to the earth he loved. Though alone, he felt no fear. There were none to come to his aid should he get into trouble, but there was none to attract trouble in the first place.

Alone he moved through the forests as silently as the shadow of a shadow, his movements as swift as they were silent. In the first days, he covered many leagues. The nights were spent high in the limbs of tall trees, and he moved on at first light of day. He fed on the flesh of fresh kills, knowing that the smaller animals of the jungle would feed well on the remains of his meals. He drank from the clear waters of jungle streams.

Each succeeding day was much like the one before and the young prince soon became bored. He had wanted excitement and adventure, but this jungle was much like the one at home. There was no adventure for him in looking at trees and flowers.

He decided to give it a couple of days more. By then, if nothing had happened, he would turn for home. He was confident of catching his hunting party before they reached his homeland, though they had a considerable start on him. They were slowed by the weight of his kills, while he moved among the trees with almost the same ease as on a city boulevard.

On the next day, he continued through the morning before crossing the trail of the tiger. Normally he would have passed on, unafraid, but having no need to kill something he would not eat. Nevertheless, he was bored and, judging from the prints, this was a very large animal indeed. Though its’ pelt would make a fine trophy to lie on the floor of his father’s palace, and its’ death would save the life of many other animals, he would not kill it. He would merely watch and learn.

With these thoughts in mind, the prince turned onto the trail of the great cat. This was not the first time he had hunted the great beasts and he knew what a cunning and terrible animal it could be.

It was not long before he came upon the place where the tiger’s path crossed that of the girl. For the less observant, there would have been nothing to see. However, for the young prince, the signs were as clear as they had been to the tiger. He saw at a glance that the beast was stalking the girl.

From the freshness of both sets of prints, he knew that he must hurry if he were to save her. He also knew that if he were careless, if he made the slightest sound, he would be detected. Then he might become the object of the tiger’s hunt. Moreover, though he had great confidence in himself, he knew that he was, physically, no match for even a small tiger.

He heard the great beast roar as it started to charge and knew he was too late. Yet, to his surprise, he did not hear a scream of terror from the girl. However, he might have missed that; the roar of the tiger could have covered it. He rushed onward, no longer hoping to save the girl for she was surely dead.

She must have been killed in the first few moments, he thought. Hopefully he would be able to frighten the beast away, and return her body to her village.

He had traveled only a few steps when he heard the tiger’s roar of pain as it collided with the trunk of the tree. This puzzled him because the animal should have been ripping apart the flesh of its kill. If it were in pain, it might mean the girl had escaped somehow and might be fighting back.

At this thought the young prince abandoned caution and redoubled his speed.

He burst into the clearing just as the great cat toppled from the tree. Intent as they were on their own problems, neither the girl nor the tiger noticed the young warrior until he was half way across the clearing.

*     *     *

It was the girl, who saw him first. To her, the young warrior looked like Shiva, the destroyer god, charging into battle. There was a look of exaltation on his face as his great heart pumped the excitement of battle and danger through his veins. His long black hair flew out in disarray and his pale skin glistened with the sweat of his exertions. His short, broad bladed, spear was poised and ready to strike, gripped in his strong right hand. His fierce black eyes flashed like lightening with the burning light of battle.

For a moment, the girl thought he really was a god, but only for a moment. Then she realized it was only a man, but one such as she had never seen before. There was none such as this in her village.

It was not just the difference of skin color that set him apart; it was his spirit; a spirit, evident, even at this distance. Now, this wonderful creature would surely die under the cruel teeth and raking talons of the tiger.

These thoughts flashed through Anjou’s mind in an instant. It was this thought that made her do what the tiger had been unable to do. She screamed.

The tiger was in great pain, but it was still deadly. Only one of its’ front shoulders was dislocated. It still had two good hind legs and a good front one. It had a mouth full of glistening teeth and it could have killed a buffalo if it could catch one. It was more than capable of killing a man. However, it was not aware of the man. In another moment, it would have noticed the intrusion, but the girls scream distracted and excited it.

With a roar of rage, it sprang to the tree. However, the injured shoulder would not allow it to do more than rear on its hind legs at the tree base and scream in frustration at the girl.

The young prince was almost upon the beast before it noticed the intrusion. Then, with a swiftness that belied its injuries, the great cat whirled to face the new danger. In turning, however, it landed on the injured foreleg. The leg refused to support the great weight and the tiger’s turn became a tumble as it fell to the earth. But it was on its’ feet in less than a heartbeat, facing the man who was now only a few feet away and running at full speed.

For an untrained and unskilled man such a situation would have been certain death. The young prince, however, was a highly trained and skilled hunter and warrior, and he was unafraid. He had tracked the beast to learn, but now meant to have its’ hide. Moreover, he intended to save the girl. He was unaccustomed to failure and had no intention of failing in this.

He had witnessed the beasts’ fall and noticed the injured leg. He instinctively accounted for the weakness, and knew what the tiger would do next. It would rear on its’ hind legs and try to swipe at him with the uninjured forepaw. He would be ready.

That was exactly what the beast did. However, the youth, expecting this, dodged around the beast on the side of the injured leg. The tiger was forced to turn to face him, but once again came down on the injured leg. Again, the leg gave way and the beast went down, but this time there was a difference. The young prince had expected the fall. In fact, he had depended on it.

As the warrior dodged past the great beast, he plunged to a halt and whirled to face it. When the cat fell at his feet, he plunged his broad-bladed spear into its’ exposed side.

The weapon struck deeply, and with killing force. Nevertheless, a single spear thrust is not enough to instantly end the life of a full-grown tiger, and time for one thrust was all the prince had.

With a scream of rage and pain the beast sprang to its’ feet, wrenching the spear shaft from the prince’s hands. The action dislodged the spear from the tiger’s body, and great gouts of blood pumped from the open wound. Such was the amount of blood that the beast would eventually bleed to death. However, that would not be soon enough to stop it from killing the impudent one who had wielded the spear.

There was no place to run, and now the prince had not even his spear for protection. That lay on the ground at the tiger’s feet. He had only his hunting knife and that would be almost useless against the teeth and talons of the great tiger. The prince knew he was going to die, but that did not concern him as much as the idea that he had not killed the beast. He had failed and that thought had greater impact on his mind than mere death.

The tiger was getting ready to spring and the prince jerked the long hunter’s knife from the sheath at his side. He prepared to make the final effort, never even considering retreat.

*     *     *

Anjou had seen all this from her perch high in the tree. She saw the spear plunge into the tiger’s side, and saw the beast shake it loose. She saw the blood pumping from the beast’s wounds, and knew it was dying. She knew that she was safe in the tree, but knew it was the end for the young hero who had saved her. His death would be the price paid for her life. For with only a knife to defend against the tiger’s teeth and talons, the young hero would be forced within striking range of the beast. Once within range he would surely die.

Without hesitation, Anjou leaped from the tree, full onto the back of the crouching tiger. Landing feet first, she immediately sprang away as the beast went down from the unexpected attack.

The young hunter was just as surprised as the tiger, but not too surprised to act. Rushing forward, he scooped up the fallen spear and leaped away as the beast scrambled to its’ feet in a screaming, spitting fury.

The prince grabbed the girl and shoved her behind him at the base of the tree. Then he turned to face the great cat, which, once again, was preparing to charge.

The beast was weak now from loss of blood and in savage pain from the separated shoulder. Judging from the red flecked foam on its’ muzzle, the first spear thrust had pierced a lung. It would soon die of its’ wounds. It was doubtful that either the girl or her rescuer would be alive when that happened. Though dying, there was still enough life remaining in the fierce heart to let it destroy them.

Seeming to forget the injuries in the fierce heat of rage, the tiger charged with blinding speed.

Frantic to protect the girl, the prince sprang forward to meet the great beast. Holding the spear in one strong hand and the long hunting knife in the other, he met the beast as it reared for its’ strike. The spear plunged deep into the savage heart and the tiger was dead. However, it would take a few moments for that knowledge to reach the raging brain. During those brief moments it would have time to end the life of its’ killer.

The desperate hunter knew that to dodge aside would leave a pathway open to the girl, and she would take the fury of the tiger’s strike. There was nothing for him to do but run straight into the rearing beast.

As the spear entered the tiger’s body, the hunter’s other hand whipped around, plunging the long blade of the knife deep into the exposed belly. As the two bodies met, the greater weight of the tiger overpowered the youth and the two went down.

The tiger was on top of the youth but the end of the protruding spear shaft stuck into the ground next to the hunter’s head. The length of the shaft was just long enough to keep the beasts raking talons out of range.

In pain and rage, the tiger fought to get at the youth. Its’ efforts forced the broad spearhead deeper into its’