Eden by Keith; Korman Page A

the hyenas were just playing with her now. There was nothing to stop them from tearing at the prostrate man. He groaned but could not rise.
    This was the end then …
    Eden felt it in her heart. The man’s hand held Eden close to him.
    All she could do was lie on her master, just lie on him and let the devils get her too—
    The three hyenas grinned at her one last time.
    Blood speckled her white fur.
    For a moment they hesitated before the final go. Why stop now?
    A faint sound came to Eden’s torn ear.
    The sound of little bells jangled sweetly in the air. Their brassy chimes filled the narrow ravine. Three large rams with bells about their necks bounded across the stones, followed by three fat ewes. The ewes circled Eden and her master, while the rams with their great horns went straight at the grinning hyenas. With a thud of horn on hide and three terrified yelps, the devils fled, limping as they ran.
    And the sound of tiny brass bells echoed off the cliff face.
    They were saved.
    Eden felt someone licking the blood from her face and the cut on her ear. At once she recognized the young goat from the river, the kid’s little gray muzzle nuzzled her face. You saved me, you saved me , the little animal whispered. Goodness gracious—a goat among the sheep, and Eden almost laughed, but her throat was too dry. A great udder appeared in front of her nose and she suckled like a pup again. And when the sun rose in the narrow ravine her master was sitting up, breathing easier now, drinking milk from that empty gourd. No rams. No hyenas. No little kid.
    And when Eden touched her mangled ear with her paw, yes, a scrap of white fur was gone, but the flesh had knit closed, fresh as new.

A Wedding
    The followers did not come all at once, but as drops of rain at the head of a storm, first one, then another, and then another …
    Eden stood by the riverbank once more. Her master had returned to speak and a few people, recently touched by the water, stayed to listen and to dry themselves by the campfires. The dog felt her master’s mind, his hopes and fears like an aura all on its own. He needed to do many things. But he could not do it all alone. Much would he say, and many would listen— but he needed men to help him . Nearby, the wild man’s donkey roused himself from his mound of fodder and stood quietly by, listening as her master’s voice rose and fell.
    At last the donkey spoke, “No one thought you’d ever come back.”
    Eden thought of the hunger and thirst, the mocking stones. “Me either.”
    â€œWhat did you see?”
    She thought of the strange, empty man and his evil creatures. What to say? We met the man at the end of the world, he tried to tempt us . No … instead she told the donkey:
    â€œHyenas and goats.”
    The donkey nodded gravely. “That sounds a lot like here.” He shook his head and shifted his ears. “What did you learn?”
    â€œI learned the world is broad and wide, bigger than this riverbank, bigger than our village, bigger than even the wasteland.”
    The donkey grew silent, considering Eden’s words. At last he said, “I would like to see this world you speak of.”
    â€œWon’t your master miss you?” Eden asked the donkey.
    Again, the old donkey pondered her words.
    â€œNo,” he finally told her. “The man of the river carries his own burdens.”
    Eden looked at the man of the river standing by the campfire, listening with the others. He leaned on his staff for support, weary in body and mind, but his face and eyes in the firelight seemed lit within just by standing in her master’s circle.
    â€œYou’ll have to leave your mound of hay behind,” Eden told the gray-faced donkey.
    â€œAt least I can forage by the side of the road. But what of you?”
    Eden looked at the knot of people gathered by their campfires. Her master’s words rose and fell on their upturned