Haplo lay on the ground and let his life seep out of his body. He could have tried to heal himself, but that would have required effort, movement, more pain. He didn’t want to move. He didn’t want to hurt anymore. He yawned, feeling sleepy. It was pleasant to lie here and know that soon he wouldn’t have to fight ever again.
A low whining sound caused him to open his eyes, not so much in fear as in irritation that he wasn’t going to be allowed to die in peace. Turning his head slightly, he saw a dog. So that Was the black furry thing that had attacked the chaodyn. Where had it come from? Presumably it had been out in the prairie, perhaps hunting, and had come to his aid.
The dog crouched on its belly, head between its paws. Seeing Haplo looking at it, the dog whined again and, dragging itself forward, made an attempt to lick the man’s hand. It was then that Haplo saw the dog was hurt.
Blood flowed from a deep gash in the animal’s body. Haplo recalled vaguely hearing its cry and the whimper when it fell. The dog was staring at him hopefully, expecting-as dogs do- that this human would care for it and make the terrible pain it was suffering go away.
“I’m sorry,” Haplo mumbled drowsily. “I can’t help you. I can’t even help myself.”
The dog, at the sound of the man’s voice, feebly wagged its bushy tail and continued to regard him with complete, trusting faith.
“Go off and die somewhere else!” Haplo made an abrupt, angry gesture. Pain tore through his body, and he cried out in agony. The dog gave a small bark, and Haplo felt a soft muzzle nudge his hand. Hurt as it was, the animal was offering him sympathy.
And then Haplo, glancing over half-irritably, half-comforted, saw that the injured dog was struggling to rise to its feet. Standing unsteadily, the dog fixed its gaze on the line of trees behind them. It licked Haplo’s hand once more, then set off, limping feebly, for the forest.
It had misunderstood Haplo’s gesture. It was going to try to go for help-help for him.
The dog didn’t get very far. Whimpering, it managed to take two or three faltering steps before it collapsed. Pausing a moment to rest, the animal tried again.
“Stop it!” Haplo whispered. “Stop it! It’s not worth it!”
The animal, not understanding, turned its head and looked at the man as if to say, “Be patient. I can’t go very fast but I won’t let you down.”
Selflessness, compassion, pity-these are not considered by the Patryns to be virtues. They are faults belonging to lesser races who cover for these inherent weaknesses by exalting them. Haplo was not flawed. Ruthless, defiant, burning with hatred, he’d fought and battled his way through the Labyrinth, solitary and alone. He had never asked for help. He had never offered it. And he had survived, where many others had fallen. Until now.
“You’re a coward,” he said to himself. “This dumb animal has the courage to fight to live, and you give up. What’s more, you will die owing. Die with a debt on your soul, for, like it or not, that dog saved your life.”
No tender feeling caused Haplo to reach across with his right hand and grasp his useless left. It was shame and pride that drove him.
“Come here!” he commanded the dog.
The dog, too weak to stand, crawled on its belly, leaving a trail of blood in the grass behind.
Gritting his teeth, gasping, crying out against the pain, Haplo pressed the sigil on the back of his hand against the dog’s torn flank. Letting it rest there, he placed his right hand on the dog’s head. The healing circle was formed; Haplo saw, with his fading vision, the dog’s wound close. . . .
“If he recovers, we’ll take him to the High Froman and offer him proof that what I said was true! We’ll show him and our people that the Welves aren’t gods! Our people will see that they’ve been used and lied to all these years.”