By the
time the craft reached the shore he had drifted well beyond the
temple.
Clawing his way up the muddy bank he found a narrow trail and
began the climb. His ankle, which he had thought healed, began a
slow steady ache. Rock-strewn, and now covered with silt and
muck and murky water, the trail formed a slippery maze up the
mountainside. Rivulets gouged ever-deepening gullies across the
path. At times the entire path was but a stream, with swift
water washing away small plants and stones.
Midway in his climb he entered a wide clearing. A doe, in
attempting to flee from his approach, had slipped and its leg
hung useless as it stood, shivering in fear.
A ray of light appeared briefly from a sun very low on the
horizon. Time was running out. With a frown he avoided the doe,
continued his climb.
He could not help himself. He looked back, and its brown limpid
eyes, full of pain and fear, held him. Finally, with a growl, he
returned. He approached the beast carefully. Though it tried to
evade him, it was to no avail. Finally it stood motionless,
shivering.
"I have no time, little one. I must be quick. This splint will
hold, hopefully, until you heal." He bound the doe's leg with
wooden splints in place. With a growl he started once more up
the mountain. He noticed the doe following behind, timidly
maintaining its distance.
"Go away. The sun has certainly set. Ah, if you had only been a
full grown buck.
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