Blood From a Stone (191 page)

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Authors: Cynthia Lucas

BOOK: Blood From a Stone
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H
e
l
ay
t
he
r
e
f
or
a
w
h
il
e
and
fi
na
ll
y
be
g
an
t
o
r
e
l
ax
and
be
f
o
r
e
he
d
rift
ed
o
ff
, he s
m
il
ed,
k
no
w
i
ng
t
hat
e
v
en
i
f
he d
i
dn

t
fi
nd
a
w
ay
t
o
b
r
eak
h
i
s
cu
r
se,
and
no
m
a
tt
er
how
m
any
Aw
a
k
en
i
n
g
s
he
m
ay poss
i
b
l
y ha
v
e
t
o endu
r
e,
t
h
i
s n
i
g
ht
w
ou
l
d
li
v
e
on
i
n
h
i
s
hea
rt
,
f
o
r
e
v
er
as
a
li
v
e
and
w
a
r
m as
i
t
w
as
ri
g
ht now
w
it
h her
i
n h
i
s
a
r
m
s.

 

C
H
AP
T
E
R
NINE
T
EE
N

 

Sa
m
son
s
t
ood
i
n
t
he door
w
ay of
t
he s
m
it
hy

s s
m
a
l
l hove
l
,
w
a
t
ch
i
ng
i
n
t
en
tl
y
as
he scraped
t
he
edge
of
h
i
s
kn
if
e aga
i
nst
t
he
b
l
ock
of
w
ood
he
w
as
carv
i
ng
t
o
m
ake
a
ha
n
d
l
e
f
or
t
he
fi
ne
s
w
ord
he
had
been
m
ak
i
ng.
T
he
s
w
ord
w
a
s
f
or Sa
m
son

s
f
a
t
her
and
t
he
s
m
it
hy
had spent
cons
i
derab
l
e
ti
m
e
w
e
i
gh
i
ng
and
ba
l
anc
i
ng
t
he
b
l
ade
t
o
get
i
t
j
ust
pe
r
f
ec
t
,
and now
w
as
eyeba
lli
ng
t
he
p
i
ece
of
w
ood
every
f
ew
s
e
conds
as
he scra
t
ched a
w
ay
at
i
t
over
and over
w
it
h h
i
s sharp
b
l
ade.


Y
e,
see
how
t
h
i
s
i
s
done,
boy.
N
ot
t
h
at
ye
’l
l
ever have
t
o
w
ork…but
t
h
i
s
i
s
how
a s
w
ord
i
s
m
ade.
F
i
ne
and s
t
ra
i
ght
i
t
i
s,
f
or
our
l
ordsh
i
p.”

Scra
t
ch,
scra
t
ch,
scra
t
ch,
w
ent
t
he k
n
if
e aga
i
nst
t
he p
i
ece
of
dark
cherry
w
ood, be
f
ore
t
he
scenery
changed and he
w
as
s
t
and
i
ng
be
f
ore
a
grave,
w
a
t
ch
i
ng as
t
he s
m
it
hy changed
i
n
t
o
so
m
e
f
ace
l
ess
robed
fi
gure…
w
ho
w
as
now  ho
l
d
i
ng
a ch
i
sel
and
ha
mm
er,
w
as
carv
i
ng
h
i
s
f
a
t
her

s
na
m
e
i
n
t
o
t
he heads
t
one.

He
reached out
and
t
ouched
t
he
s
t
one…
l
ov
i
ng
l
y, and
f
e
l
t
deep
sorrow
at
not
kno
w
i
ng
how or
w
hen
h
i
s
f
a
t
her had
passed.
A
s
t
one
w
it
h
h
i
s
m
o
t
her

s
na
m
e
w
as
nea
r
by
t
oo.
H
e
w
an
t
ed
t
o
ye
l
l
at
t
he
robed
fi
gure
t
o s
t
op
carv
i
ng…
t
hat sur
e
l
y
he
m
ust
have
t
rave
l
ed
back
i
n
ti
m
e
and
t
her
ef
ore
t
hey cou
l
dn

t
be
dead
and
gone,
but
t
he
engraver
i
gnored
h
i
m and con
ti
nued
w
it
h
h
i
s
t
ask.
T
he
scra
t
ch
i
ng
grew
l
ouder
and
w
as acco
m
pan
i
ed by
a
l
oud….bark
i
ng sound.

S
a
m
son

s
e
y
es
popped
open
and
he
sat
up
ab
r
up
tl
y
i
n
t
he
bed,
j
o
lt
ed
fr
om h
i
s
d
r
ea
m
.
P
a
l
e
s
tr
ea
k
s
of
li
g
ht
fi
l
t
e
r
ed
t
h
r
ou
g
h
t
he
b
li
nd
of
W
ill
o
w

s
bed
r
oom
w
i
ndow
and
C
i
sco
w
as
c
l
ea
rl
y
r
eady
t
o
g
o
ou
t
s
i
de,
as
w
as
e
v
i
denced
by h
i
s
l
oud sc
r
a
t
ch
i
ng 
at 
t
he 
bed
r
oom 
doo
r

acco
m
pan
i
ed 
by 
t
he
occas
i
onal
ba
r
k
.
H
e
g
ot
up,
g
r
abbed
t
he da
m
p
t
o
w
el
t
hat W
ill
ow had
been
w
r
apped
i
n
l
ast
n
i
g
ht
and
ti
ed
i
t
a
r
ound
h
i
s
w
a
i
st
as
he
w
ent
t
o
t
he
door
and
w
a
l
k
ed
t
h
r
ou
g
h,
b
l
oc
k
i
ng
i
t
w
it
h h
i
s body
be
f
o
r
e
C
i
sco cou
l
d co
m
e bound
i
ng
i
n.

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