TWL1

=Noni’s love for Nimuk was real, very real—as real as hunger and cold nights and the gnawing pain of his injured leg. But the men of his village killed their dogs when food was scarce, didn’t they? And without thinking twice about it. And Nimuk, he told himself, when hungry enough, would seek food. “One of us will soon be eating the other,” Noni thought. “So. . .” He could not kill the dog with his bare hands. Nimuk was powerful and much fresher than he. A weapon, then, was needed. Removing his mittens, he unstrapped the braces from his leg. When he had hurt his led a few weeks ago, he had made the brace from bits of harness and two thin strips of iron. Kneeling now, he wedged one of the iron strips into a crack in the ice and began to rub the other against it with firm, slow strokes. Nimuk watched him, and it seemed to Noni that the dog’s eyes glowed more brightly. He worked on, trying not to remember why. The slab of iron had an edge now. It had begun to take shape. Daylight found his task completed. Noni pulled the finished knife from the ice and thumbed its edge. The sun’s glare reflected from it, stabbed at his eyes and momentarily blinded him. Noni steeled himself. “Here, Nimuk,” he called softly. The dog suspiciously watched him. “Come here,” Noni called. Nimuk came closer. Noni read fear in the dog’s eyes. He read hunger and suffering in the dog’s labored breathing and awkward crouch. His heart wept. He hated himself and fought against it. Closer Nimuk came, aware of his intentions. Now Noni felt a thickening in his throat. He saw the dog’s eyes, and they were wells of suffering. Now! Now was the time to strike.= = = = = = = =* * * STOP * * *=

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