Until, at last, in a village on the slope of
the mountains, he received guidance that seemed to hold worth.
The sun had set, and evening stars were beginning to make
appearance. To the north the little bear could be seen. The air
had the feel of coming frost. The great hunter moved across the
cold winter sky, followed by his faithful hounds.
"Feel the air, young man! Is there not a storm brewing? A
blizzard? Medusa has been deserted by her lover. Her countenance
is hard. The chill winds will blow, the lakes freeze over, and
living things shall freeze and die. For her heart has grown
cold."
The old crone rubbed her hands together for warmth, continued.
"Until she takes again a suitor, the world will suffer from her
rejection. Even now, there, beneath the little bear, she waits
in her icy cave."
The night wind began to blow and the chill crept through his
clothing. "Beneath the little bear, then, will I find her?"
"She is there. And she is dangerous. If you value your life,
end this quest. She strikes out in her anger, uncaring for any.
If you go on, beware the great white bear. He guards her by day,
and by night." The old woman turned away, hobbled awkwardly to
her frigid mountain hut.
She stood in the doorway, looked at him intently. "Your
companion, why does he lurk in the shadows? He has nothing to
fear from me."
He did not reply. He knew not himself the reason for the evil
presence.
Game became increasingly scarce.
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