Noah Read Free Page A

three poachers began to close in, the leader walking slowly toward Noah, his comrades moving down from the canyon walls in a pincer movement.
    Noah eyed them cautiously, weighing the situation. Behind him the hound whimpered in fear, bracing its paws against the ground as though preparing to rise and flee. Noah quieted it with a word and a hand gesture.
    “Walk away and maybe you live… or maybe not,” the leader of the poachers said. The man carrying the spear cackled. Noah rose to his full height and turnedto stare at him. There was something about the stillness and intensity of his expression and posture that arrested the laugh in the man’s throat.
    The poacher leader spoke again. His voice was rough, guttural, his words spoken with an accent.
    “You know how long since we ate? Since we even seen an animal?” He grinned, showing his pointed teeth and his eyes glittered. “Maybe we eat you, too.”
    The spear-carrying poacher cackled again, a real hoot this time, as if his leader’s remark was the funniest thing he had ever heard.
    Noah simply stood there, unmoving and unruffled. Behind him the hound panted with exhaustion. The silence stretched out. Noah looked evenly at the poacher leader. Finally the man jerked his head.
    “So?”
    Noah continued to stare at him, and then without speaking he gave a tiny shake of the head.
    The poacher leader scowled, squaring his shoulders. Raising his knife a fraction higher, he took a swaggering step closer.
    “No?” he barked. “Not going to walk away? You want us to kill you?”
    Still Noah said nothing. His steely reserve was clearly beginning to both agitate and unnerve the poachers now. Despite the weapons they carried and the fact that they were flanking their prey on three sides, nervous glances darted back and forth between them, as if they were uncertain what to do.
    Perhaps fearful of losing face, of having his authority undermined, the poacher leader took another step forward.
    “Why don’t you say something?” Spittle flew from his mouth as he shouted. “Don’t you talk?”
    Again Noah gave the tiniest shake of his head. It was the most economical of movements in his otherwise still form, and it gave the impression that he was conserving his energy, readying himself.
    The poacher leader licked his lips. His knife arm sagged a little. Noah tensed. Was this a ruse? Or was the man genuinely beginning to lose his taste for the fight?
    The poachers were clearly hungry and the pickings were so meager that Noah couldn’t believe they would simply give up on the chance of a meal. Then again, perhaps they were weak from the lack of food, and therefore lacking conviction. Perhaps if he simply stood his ground for several moments longer, they would—
    But then everything changed.
    Maybe sensing that the threat from the hunters was ebbing, or simply galvanized by a few precious moments of rest, the wounded hound suddenly leaped to its feet, dodged around Noah’s legs, and took off. It ran straight at the lead poacher, who looked astonished, even alarmed for a moment. And then, just when it seemed the creature might leap and attack him, it changed direction, veering around the man and racing toward the opening in the rocks where the canyon curved around a corner.
    Reacting instinctively, the poacher leader turned and hurled his stone at the departing animal. Noah heard the hound howl in pain, but he didn’t see where the missile had struck it.
    The two poachers flanking him took advantage of his momentary distraction with the animal’s fate, and attacked.
    Releasing bloodcurdling cries, the men leapedtoward Noah, weapons raised. Noah’s reaction, however, was shockingly fast.
    Exploding into action, he whipped his knife from his belt, ducked under the clumsy thrust of the spear from the poacher who had laughed at him earlier, and sprang forward, slashing the man’s throat. As the man fell, blood spraying in an arc from his neck, Noah pivoted and grabbed his spear