The Were-Wolf
lently, and so slake his murderous hate. And he began to know that through all his despair he had entertained a germ of hope, that grew apace, rained upon by his brother's blood.
He strove on as best he might, wrung now by an access of hope, now of despair, in agony to reach the end, however terrible, sick with the aching of the toiled miles that deferred it.
And the light went lingering out of the sky, giving place to uncertain stars.
He came to the finish.
Two bodies lay in a narrow place. Christian's was one, but the other beyond not White Fell's. There where the footsteps ended lay a great white wolf.
At the sight Sweyn's strength was blasted; body and soul he was struck down grovelling.
The stars had grown sure and intense before he stirred from where he had dropped prone. Very feebly he crawled
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