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Page 262
eyes were focused on her, but he said nothing. "In fact," she continued, "in my time, we recognize the injustices done to Native Americans. This was your land. Your culture depends on not allowing it to be stolen. But no one can stop the flow of soldiers and settlers. I'm really sorry, but your culture is doomed. Maybe you can make it easier on yourself if you"
"No!" he said again. He gave her back a strong shove that nearly toppled her. With a cry of fear, she continued walking.

Night had fallen. No light penetrated the canopy of trees, and Mariah hadn't any idea where she was. She tripped more often now, unable to see obstacles and functioning only mechanically, half asleep.
And thenthey broke through the shelter of the forest. Before her, illuminated by the barest sliver of moon and a universe of stars, she saw, in shades of blacks and grays, a cliff at the water's edge. One where odd-shaped boulders abounded. The air smelled damp, and she heard the grumbling of a waterfall.
"The rocks as hard as your heart," she whispered to Nahtana, who held her arm.
He granted, clearly unable to understand, for he did not retaliate for her words.
But the sight gave Mariah hope, however slight. Something in the screenplay had come true.
Did that mean she dared to hope that her Thorn would rescue her, as Matilda's had?
She nearly laughed aloud. Even if the real Thorn were dependable, he was off hunting settlers. He'd never find her.
Not that he'd look.
Nahtana pushed her into a cave. He brought her a gourd of water and a piece of jerked meat. She fell asleep before she had finished eating.

"Miss Mariah!"
The soft, feminine voice in her ear startled Mariah awake. She'd been having the most terrible dream, in which the

 
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