Warrior Poet Read Online Free PDF

he’d brought the water bag with him. He wiped the sweat off his face, then took several deep breaths and started off again.
    He looked at his feet, kicking up dust as he ran. He was no longer casting a shadow. It was midday.
    If the beast doesn’t stop soon, I’ll turn back and get Jahra and the flock home .
    Though morning had passed, the ancient words of Moses that he loved came rushing into his mind:
    Lord, You have been our refuge age after age. 3
    As he ran, he continued reciting the beloved words he’d memorized after hearing them during the feast days at the tabernacle.
    “Relent, Yahweh!” he pled, making the words his own. “Take pity on Your servants!” 4
    Unable to concentrate on the words as his side began to ache, he skipped to his favorite lines:
    May the sweetness of the Lord be on us!
    Make all we do succeed. 5
    He repeated that last phrase over and over but stopped when he hurdled a bramble bush, and when he landed, his foot slid on a flat stone. He looked down, stopping to catch his breath. On the surface was a wide, dark smear. He had slipped on blood from one of the bear’s paws. Most likely the wound had been caused by a piece of broken shale or a large thorn. He smiled. That would slow the animal down.
    He ran to a boulder, reached up to find a grip, and felt something wet. His mouth tightened. Drawing back his hand, he stared at the dark, reddish mud. He brought his fingertips to his nose, smelling the blood and earth. Savage pleasure prickled his spine. Seized by an inexplicable urge, he ran his fingers along the sides of his face, smearing the blood on his cheeks.
    Taking in a lungful of air, he pulled himself up. He blinked the sweat from his eyes. The blood was fresh. He was in a more or less flat clearing about three times the size of the pens in Bethlehem. A sling’s throw away was another crest leading higher into the hills. Ten paces to his left, rocks and debris were heaped at the base of a steep incline. A cliff fell away to his right, marking the boundary.
    He pulled the rod out of his belt, following the drops of blood directly toward the rocky face in front of him. As he approached, sounds of an animal huffing and lumbering reverberated inside. David leaned in and saw a large opening, the entrance to a narrow tunnel. At the opening was the silhouette of a bear. The animal turned its head, as if gauging the distance between them, and disappeared.
    David stepped in cautiously and made his way through the tunnel. He felt as though he were being swallowed by the mountain. Emerging into the light on the other side, he took a step and hit a patch of shale. He bent his knees and spread his arms, allowing his weight to carry him forward. He lost his balance but caught himself with his hand. Shards of stone sliced into his palm as he ground to a halt. Ignoring the sting, he yanked off his headband and wrapped his hand as he continued his pursuit.
    The bear, now less than seventy paces away, stopped to look at him, then wheeled around a sharp bend. It was heading back in the direction they had come. David froze. Was it returning to the spot where Jahra lay defenseless? He was now convinced that leaving had been a dreadful mistake.
    He was running now as he’d never run before. Chest heaving, David crested a gentle rise and saw the hindquarters of the bear. His pulse quickened; instead of bounding up the hill, the animal had turned left and was going around it.
    David leaped over the boulders, heading up the steep hill. If he reached the top before the bear made it around, he would have time to prepare for a kill shot.
    Not more than six paces from the top, he heard something that could not have possibly come from his friend’s mouth. It was a cry of horror, rising to an impossible pitch before coming to a brutal halt. David’s legs buckled, and he pitched forward. What followed made no sense. It was the bray of a wounded donkey. For a moment David thought he would vomit. Choking it down,