Jim Ellison stood in the shadows of the snow bent trees, listening. Sure enough, a moment later the source of the heartbeat emerged from the trees on the other side of the clearing, and his own heart leapt for joy as he watched the familiar figure of his guide slowly wander along the far bank of the frozen lake that lay between them.

He frowned as he watched the young man kick aimlessly though the snow. Blair looked so different. He appeared well and unharmed, but even through the layers of heavy clothing, Jim could see that his guide had dropped at least fifteen pounds. Even that paled in comparison to the change in the young face.

So sad. So filled with confusion.

So lost.

Jim sighed again. Vanished was Blair's look of perpetual youth and innocent energy. Now, his lips were set in a thin, cheerless line, wrinkles of worry deepened at the corners of eyes that no longer sparkled. Blair looked like he'd lost his best friend.

But that was about to change. Jim smiled and took a step forward, wondering what Blair's reaction to seeing him would be. But, before Jim could step out of the trees, a heavy hand landed on his shoulder. Jim whirled to face the owner of the hand, and at the same time the world around him took on an odd, bluish glow.

{What the hell?} Jim thought.

"Not yet, sentinel."

Jim looked up in awe. His spirit guide, the panther/man he had encountered in Peru, stood there, with his hand resting heavily on Jim's shoulder. Jim stared for a moment before the Indian's words registered on his brain. "What do you mean, 'not yet'?" He pulled back a little, turning to glance toward Blair. The young man was sitting on a rock now, writing in his notebook, oblivious to Jim's presence.

"It is not time yet. Your young one needs more time," the Spirit guide explained.

Jim just stared, incomprehensive. "Time for what? What are you talking about?" Jim looked anxiously toward Blair again, the horrible memory of the dream flashing across his mind.

"Please... I... I think he's in trouble. Let me go to him. Please." Jim felt helpless as he pleaded with the stoic spirit before him.

"He is in no danger at this time. The guide must decide for himself if he wishes to continue his journey at your side or not. You must not interfere with that decision by showing yourself," the panther/man finished with a wise smile.

Jim looked at the specter with a doubtful face. He weighed the spirit's words against the powerful emotions in his heart and shook his head.

"No," he said, turning away. "I'm sorry. I have to go to him now."

Jim stepped forward. He'd only gone a short distance when he bumped into the panther/man, who materialized directly in his path, the blue light still glowing eerily against the pure, white snow.

"Get out of my way," Jim said sternly, trying to move past the spiritual figure.

The panther/man didn't move at first. Then, he slowly lifted a hand, and laid it on Jim's shoulder. He shook his head, as if saddened by the stubbornness of mortals who refused the wisdom of the spirits sent to guide them on their paths.

"Very well," the large figure rumbled softly as he faded from sight.

Jim just stood for a long moment, staring at the spot where the spirit had been. He looked around slowly, noting that the blue glow was gone, replaced by the characteristic Alaskan slate gray. When Jim was convinced he wasn't going to be visited by the mysterious figure again, he moved forward toward the frozen lake, and at long last, toward his beloved guide.

Blair was lost in thought as he ambled slowly along the edge of the frozen lake. He'd been warned by the others not to try and cross at this particular spot; in the center of the lake was a hot spring that welled up from the bottom. It wasn't what anyone would ever call warm, but the thermal energy bubbling from below did keep the ice too thin to safely cross.

He took a deep breath and pulled his fur parka tightly around his body. Why the hell had he ever picked such a cold place to run? Yet, somehow, the bitterness of the wind seemed appropriate. It matched the bitter coldness gripping his heart. Blair leaned back and gazed briefly up at the gray, overcast sky, listening to the faint, ever present whisper of wind. The anthropologist's mind had been occupied by images of Jim these past few days. It had all started with that nightmare. Now, after his visit with Neko, he had even more to consider.

Blair shuddered as he remembered the horrible dream that had awakened him, screaming, from whatever trance Neko had induced. He and Jim had been crossing a rope bridge together. Then, Jim had fallen through, and although Blair had tried with all his might, he wasn't able to save his friend. He closed his eyes as the memory of the dream-Jim's death screams rang through his mind, the image of the sentinel falling to his death, of his strong body lying battered....

Unable to bear the images any longer, Blair turned away from the lake. He started at the sound of a voice calling his name against the sound of the wind.

"Chief!"

Blair froze as he was turning to head back through the trees to the camp. That voice.

Jim smiled as he saw Blair stiffen at his call. He increased his pace, slipping and skating quickly across the ice toward his friend. He smiled and waved as Blair turned to stare at him, jaw hanging open, blue eyes wide with disbelief.

"Jim?" Blair called back, not quite believing what he was seeing. Jim was here. Jim had managed to track him down. Jim was here, in Alaska, and coming toward him.

Jim was coming. Across the frozen lake. Across the ice...

Jim was crossing the dangerously thin ice.

Blair's eyes widened further, this time in horror as he realized Jim was nearing the most treacherous part of the frozen lake. He ran forward, waving his arms wildly and calling out in alarm.

"Jim!!! No, Jim!!! Stop, go back!!!!" But, his warning was too late. Jim took two more steps, almost running now toward his guide, then, with a great crack, the ice gave way beneath his feet.

Jim was just opening his mouth to call out to Blair again, when the ground dropped out from under him. He gasped in pain and shock as he broke through the ice. The unexpected coldness of the icy water on his sentinel-sensitive skin nearly knocked him unconscious, but Jim managed to grab the edge of the hole he'd made and keep his head above water. Darkness whirled around him, and he had to fight to stay conscious.

"JIM!!!" Blair shrieked as he saw his friend disappear through the ice. He turned to call out to the camp. "HELP!!! Somebody, help me! He's gone through the ice!!!"

Hanging in the icy water, Jim closed his eyes and screamed through his clenched teeth in agony as the frigid liquid instantly sucked the heat from his body. Almost immediately, he lost the feeling in his legs. He tried to kick to keep himself afloat, but his legs had turned to lumps of lead, useless. The heavy wool coat that had served to protect him from the cold had already absorbed the water and weighed him down, threatening to drag him down into the dark, icy depths.

Using only his trembling arms, Jim managed to pull his head, shoulders and torso up onto the ice and felt a surge of hope. But when he tried to pull his dead legs up, the weight caused the ice under him to break off, and he found himself immersed again.

Blair continued to shout as he ran to the edge of the lake, watching helplessly as Jim tried in vain to escape the watery trap. Blair held his breath anxiously as Jim managed to get up onto the ice for a moment. Then, he cried out in frustration and despair as he saw the ice give way again, plunging Jim back into the water.

The sound of many pounding feet caught Blair's attention, and he looked up to see what had to be the entire population of the camp charging through the trees toward him. One of the men from the camp ran up to him, glanced out at Jim, then stepped carefully out onto the ice. The man was smaller than Jim, but still large, and he'd only taken four steps before there was a cracking sound. The man jumped back, and Blair grabbed his jacket as the ice broke again.

"Ice is too thin!" said the man to the others as they arrived as Blair looked on, horrified. The man turned to Blair, shaking his head sadly. "We cannot get to him." he said reluctantly.

Watching the activity on the shore as if in a dream, Jim closed his eyes. He was so cold, so sleepy. If he could just rest a moment, he knew he'd be able to get out of the water. Just a few minutes of rest. Just a few....

"Glurppp...!" Jim spluttered and choked as he snapped awake, finding himself underwater. Quickly, he reached up and searched around blindly for the rim of the hole. After what seemed like an eternity, his frantic hands found the jagged edge of the ice. With his last ounce of strength, Jim pulled himself up, gasping for air as his head broke the surface. In the distance, he heard Sandburg screaming at the top of his lungs.

"BRING A ROPE! HURRY UP, HE'S GOING UNDER AGAIN!!!"

Blair felt the seconds drag by like hours as he watched one of the men from the camp come running toward him, carrying a coil of heavy rope over his shoulder. Blair turned back to his friend again, and felt his heart sink as Jim vanished under the surface.

"JIM!!! JIM, NOOOO!!!" Blair watched, heart racing, as the Inuit with the rope stepped cautiously to the edge of lake, handed one end to his friends, and hurled the coil towards the hole in the ice where Jim had disappeared. Just as the end of the rope landed beside the hole, Jim's hand broke the surface of the water, followed by his head. Blair cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted to his friend with all his might.

"Jim! Listen to me! Jim! Jim, grab the rope!"

Blair. Rope. Grab the rope. His mind in a fog, Jim laid his head on the ice, gazing numbly at the end of the heavy rope lying less than a foot away. He willed his frozen hands to reach for it, but it seemed that his body had ceased to function. He closed his eyes. He was so cold, and he hurt so badly. He never thought he would welcome the sensation of his body slowly losing all feeling, but now he did just that. It meant the pain, the intense, burning pain of his frozen body would go away.

Blair was still yelling to him, and Jim winced at the note of terror in his guide's voice. "It's OK... Chief," Jim mumbled faintly. "I don't feel... a thing...." Jim was rapidly losing consciousness. His grip on the edge of the ice began to loosen. At least, he had seen Blair once more, one last time. Once more, before the cold claimed him... Blair...

"No good," said Neko, shaking his head at Blair. "He is too weak to grab the rope. Even if he could, he could not hold on for us to pull him in." He laid a hand on Blair's shoulder as the others began to slowly, sadly turn their backs on Jim. "I'm sorry, young one. There is nothing we can do." Neko's eyes were full of regret.

Blair just stared at him. "What do you mean, nothing? We're just going to give up and let him die?" Blair looked out at his friend again. Jim was motionless, his head and one arm laying limply on the surface of the ice.

Neko sighed. "The ice is too thin for a man to cross..."

"There's got to be a way!" Blair shouted in desperation. "I can't just watch him die!"

Neko held his shoulders, shaking his head as he continued to speak, voice low and gentle. "I'm sorry, Blair." Seeing the anguish in the young shaman's face, he tried to pull the student away from the lake's edge, away from the sight of his best friend slowly slipping back into the hole. Into his watery, cold grave. Blair's muscles began to relax in the old man's grip as he began to sob, and Neko sighed.

The other people of the tribe watched sadly as Blair broke down in Neko's arms. It was never easy when something like this happened, but there was nothing they could do. Life in the arctic was often hard, and death was accepted as a part of life. An often inescapable part.

Neko tightened his arms around Blair and began to lead him away from the lake, the others following sadly. No one wanted to watch such a cruel death. But, suddenly Blair came alive and thrashed wildly out of Neko's arms.

"NO! I'M NOT GIVING HIM UP, DAMN IT! I WON'T LET HIM DIE!" Blair roared out his grief and denial as he turned back to the lake and began to run. In some distant corner of his mind, he heard Neko and the others shouting to him not to do it, to come back to the safety of the bank, that it was hopeless, that he would die, too. He ignored them. He kept his eyes on Jim as he ran.

When he hit the ice, Blair never slowed until he heard the ominous cracking, then he flung himself forward onto his stomach. It was sheer instinct, but in doing so, he spread his weight over a wider surface, and thus lessened the pressure on the ice. His forward momentum caused him to slide almost all the way out to where Jim was just disappearing for the final time beneath the water's surface.

Jim sank into the black void. As everything faded away, he heard his friend's voice crying out in rage and pain. *I'm sorry Blair,* he thought, as he lost consciousness. *I'm sorry you had to see me die like this....*

Growling with determination, Blair scrambled forward on his belly. Jim went under just as he reached the hole. The young man plunged his hand into the freezing water, gasping as his hand immediately began to go numb. How could Jim possibly survive his whole body going through this? His heart tightened at the thought of how much more pain his touch sensitive sentinel must be enduring.

Blair latched onto Jim's collar and quickly pulled him up so the detective was bent at the waist, his upper body lying on the ice. Blair paused a moment to marvel at his own strength.

Adrenaline rush, had to be.

The anthropologist reached for the end of the rope, sitting up a little in his attempt to snag it. There was another loud crack, and Blair quickly laid back down, spreading his body out on the ice, praying. When the sound ceased, he carefully scrambled toward the rope again, keeping his fingers snarled in the collar of Jim's coat. As cold as his hands were, he would not let go. He could not let go.

Blair grabbed the end of the rope and pulled it toward himself, wrapping it around his forearm. Then he turned his head to shout at the men, who had returned to the edge of the lake.

"Okay!" Blair cried.

"PULL!" Neko shouted, as he grabbed the end of the rope. Five strong men had seized the rope and now they all pulled together, drawing the rope in slowly, hand over hand.

Blair winced as he felt the tug of war begin to grab at his cold, tired muscles; a tug of war between his friend's dead weight and the pulling of the men on the shore trying to save him. For a moment, Jim's body didn't budge and Blair began to worry that his arms might soon be yanked from their sockets.

Then, at last, Jim's body slid stiffly up out of the water and onto the ice. The cracking began again, but then the men began to pull in earnest. Blair held on for dear life as he and Jim were dragged swiftly across the ice, cracking it all the way but never stopping long enough to fall through. Blair clutched Jim's collar desperately with frozen fingers.

After what seemed like hours, Blair was pulled onto the shore and helped to his feet by Neko. He stood shakily and watched as two of the large, burly men from the camp hoisted Jim's limp body between them and headed up toward the camp. The rest of the group followed, Neko wrapping the shivering Blair in his fur shawl and patting the young man on the back.

"That was the bravest thing I have ever seen," Neko said appreciatively. "And being as old as I am, I have seen a lot!" The old man smiled a toothless grin at the young anthropologist, who was shaking from cold and shock. He squeezed his arm tight around Blair's narrow shoulders as they entered the camp.

Blair tried to speak through his shivers as he watched Jim being carried into one of the huts. "I...I...I... f-f-f-figured maybe...I w-w-was light enough n-n-not to b-b-b-break the ice! Had...to...try..." he stuttered, teeth chattering.

He looked anxiously at Neko. "W-will he be all right? I mean, God, the w-w-water was so c-c-c-cold!" Blair shook his hand, trying to regain feeling in his digits. He and Neko followed the other men into the hut where Jim had been taken.

"Mmm..." Neko pursed his lips and looked thoughtfully at Jim as the men and women in the hut began to strip the big man out of his soaked clothes. "I don't know," he said truthfully. "But you said he was in the military, yes?"

Blair nodded, not taking his eyes off Jim as the Inuit began to wrap his friend's body in fur smeared with seal fat. It was a traditional treatment for hypothermia, he remembered reading somewhere back in Cascade right before leaving on his ill-fated journey.

Cascade... Home... It seemed like another life. Another lifetime.

"Good," Neko continued softly, as he helped Blair out of his wet parka. "Then he's probably had endurance training. That, plus his size means he stands a very good chance of recovering. A large body holds heat longer that a small one." Neko tapped Blair on the chest, smiling at the shivers still wracking the slight body.

Blair wasn't really listening to Neko. His attention was on Jim. He moved through the crowd of people crammed in the tiny hut to stand at Jim's side, smiling as one of the women stepped back to let him in. Blair reached down and laid a hand on Jim's forehead, wincing at the coldness of the skin.

Mirake appeared beside him, her worried eyes taking in the pallor of Jim's face. "He is your friend?" she asked Blair softly.

The young man merely nodded, his throat too tight for words. Had Jim worked so hard to find Blair, come this far, only for them to be separated now? Forever? The possibility was so enormous, so staggering, that his mind couldn't even conceive it.

Mirake turned to the other women and men in the small hut. Speaking rapidly in her native language, she began to gently push and shove them toward the door. When they were alone, she turned again to Blair. "Apaa Tunu-Kingu, you and I will care for him now. I will help you take care of him, but it is you he needs most. I think that, if he is to live, it is you who must save him."

Blair stared at the woman's kind face for a long moment, then he nodded slowly, turning to capture Jim's cold hand in his. "The cold won't separate us, Mirake. Not if I can help it."

************************************

As the hours passed, a silent crowd of Inuit kept vigil outside the small hut where Jim Ellison lay unmoving. Although the people of the tribe did not know who the stranger was, they understood that he was important to Apaa Tunu-Kingu, and that was all they really needed to know. Neko explained in his quiet, sing song voice, that the young man who had walked among them these past weeks was a guide and a shaman, and that the strong, tall man who had fallen into the ice was his watchman. This, they could understand. While it was Mirake who was to assist Apaa Tunu-Kingu, all their spirits would join outside the hut to add strength to the young shaman's power.

Secretly, Neko knew that it would take all their power, all their will, if the tall, handsome watchman was to survive. He had seen men taken by the ice before. Most, submerged in the frigid waters for less time than Ellison had been, did not survive. Still, this man seemed to be a fighter, he was a watchman, and he had his guide back beside him. Perhaps it would be enough.

Perhaps.

Neko settled down on a fur blanket in the cold beside the other members of the tribe to wait.

*************************************

Inside the hut, it was warm. Mirake was a mere shadow presence, tending to Jim when she was needed, but for the most part, remaining in the background. Instinctively, she realized that it was not her presence the watchman needed.

Covered in layers of warm, fur skins, settled near the crackling fire, Jim's skin had regained a touch of pinkness which Blair found encouraging. However, his eyes still remained tightly shut.

Sandburg sat on the floor beside the small cot on which his sentinel lay. His right hand was wormed up under the layers of furs clutching Jim's hand, while his left gently stroked the short cropped hair. As the hours passed, he forgot Mirake and talked to his friend as if they were the only ones in the hut.

"Jim..." He whispered, bending down close to his friend and gripping his hand tightly. "Man, I am *so* sorry. I don't know what got into me, except that I was so afraid that one day, I'd be the one who got you killed. It just started eating away at me, man, until I couldn't deal with it anymore." He took the hand that had been stroking Jim's hair and swiped quickly at his eyes. "You know I couldn't stand it if that happened, if I were the cause of something happening to you. So, I left. Bet you didn't figure I'd end up in Alaska, did you, big guy? Not with the way I hate the cold."

Blair ran his fingers along Jim's strong cheekbone. "How'd you find me, anyway, huh? Jim Ellison, super cop, strikes again. Can I tell you a secret, man? I'm so glad you did find me. I mean, even though I can't bear the thought of letting you down, of being the one who causes you to get hurt or killed, I..." Blair's voice dropped to a rough whisper. "I can't bear to be away from you either, Jim. Oh, man, what are we gonna do?"

A blast of cold air drove back some of the fire's warmth as the hut's door opened, then quickly shut once more. One of the young Inuit glanced over at Jim and Blair, then moved to whisper something to Mirake. She shook her head, then the young man whispered again, more insistently this time. Mirake motioned him toward the door, and he left, another blast of cold air in his wake.

The kind woman stood behind Blair, a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Your professor, Dr. Schindler, needs to see you. I told him that you would not want to leave, but he insists that it is urgent." She glanced at Jim's still face. "He is still sleeping. I will stay with him while you are gone."

Blair shook his head. "No. I won't leave him."

In a sympathetic voice, Mirake assured him, "I promise I will not leave him alone. Perhaps it would do you good to go see Dr. Schindler and get something to eat. You must keep up your strength. Your friend would not want you to become ill, would he?"

Blair winced a little at the inner voice he heard inside. *Go on, Chief. You're not going to do me any good if you waste away from hunger. I'm not going anywhere. Go on.*

Looking up at Mirake, he smiled. "Okay, but only for a few minutes. I'll be right back, and you promise..." She interrupted with a smile. "I'll send for you if he shows any signs of awakening."

Stretching his cramped legs, Blair stretched, then, with a final look back at his sleeping friend, he pulled his parka tighter around him and left the warmth of the hut.

********************************

He found the professor in his hut. The older man sat hunched over his small, portable writing desk, pouring over some papers stacked in meticulous piles on his desk. Schindler looked up as Blair entered the room.

"Ah, Mr. Simmons. How nice of you to find time to join me." The ice cold eyes regarded Blair calmly, his tight smile never reaching his lips. "I hear we have a visitor in our midst and that you seem to be spending an inordinate amount of time at his bedside. The university is not paying you for your nursing skills, you realize but for your intellectual ones. So much time spent caring for a stranger and neglecting your scholarly duties, perhaps, in the process?"

Blair felt his temper rise. He'd never cared much for Schindler, and the man's attitude was definitely rubbing him the wrong way right now. Only a short time before, he'd watched his best friend come way too close to death; he wasn't in the mood for a lecture from this stranger.

Blue eyes flashing, Blair took a step toward the door, ready to leave this cruel man's presence and return to Jim's side. "He's a very close friend of mine, Professor, and he's been seriously injured. I'm sorry if my spending time with him has interfered with my responsibilities, but..."

Sandburg never got to finish the sentence.

Blair felt the hard jab of metal against his ribcage. Turning slowly, he looked behind him to see the Rikert's malevolent grin as he stood pressing his gun against Blair's side. "What the hell's going on?" He held his hands out to his side in a gesture of surrender. "Dr. Schindler...?"

Schindler never responded. Instead he rose from his chair and stood directly in front of the confused young anthropologist. Carefully, beginning at his hairline, the professor proceeded to peel away the very skin from his face. Slowly, inch by inch, another, very different, countenance was revealed.

Different, but not unknown.

"Zeller...!" Blair breathed.

He was so stunned that he never heard Rikert raise the gun that had been pressed against his side. The resounding crack and the simultaneous, sharp pain in his head were his last impressions in the final instant before the blackness claimed him.

**************************************

Jim's first thought was that his bones were frozen. His body ached, a deep, intense pain that seemed to radiate to his very marrow. Behind closed eyelids, a dim light penetrated, and from far away, as if rising from a well, he could hear voices echoing.

Perhaps he was dead. The sentinel lay very still and considered that possibility.

The memories came rushing back. The terrifying sound of the cracking ice as it gave way beneath him...the bone chilling water enveloping him, instantly robbing his body of all feeling...the desperate sounds of Blair's screams, followed by his heart breaking sobs as he watched his sentinel slowly dying...the final moments of consciousness before he slipped away, leaving the cold and the ice and his guide behind.

So...where was he now? His body hurt. Surely, once life had been abandoned, pain would no longer be a part of existence. The feeling of soft fur which tickled his chin...the tantalizing scents of simmering food which came wafting in on the breeze...the sounds of people working and talking and laughing nearby...those couldn't be a part of the afterlife. Could they?

If he wasn't dead, then...

Where the hell was Sandburg?

Jim's eyes shot open and darted around the small, cozy hut. "We're definitely not in Kansas anymore," he whispered, taking in his comfortable, but rather meager, surroundings.

A flash of light as the skins covering the door parted forced his eyes closed once more, and when he opened them again, two pairs of warm, concerned brown eyes were peering down at him.

"He awakens," the woman commented with a smile. "Welcome back to us, James Ellison."

The old man beside her nodded and smiled broadly. "Apaa Tunu-Kingu will be pleased."

Jim's eyes widened. "Apaa Tunu-Kingu?" His heart tightened. "Who...?"

Neko's eyes almost disappeared in the wrinkles which appeared as he chuckled heartily. "You know him as Blair Sandburg, I believe."

Now, it was the woman's turn to look confused. "Blair...? Kingu's name is Dwight...Dwight Simmons. Is this not correct?"

The old shaman smiled. "Mother, do not worry yourself over such things. Is not Kingu the same friend to us, no matter what his true name?"

Jim watched the emotions flicker across the wide features of the Inuit woman. He didn't know who these people were or how Blair had come to know them, but it was obvious they cared for his guide, that they thought highly of him. For Jim Ellison, that was enough. It was enough for him to trust them.

At last, the woman nodded. "You are right, Neko."

Jim interrupted, trying to remain polite in spite of his sudden need to find his friend. "Neko? Where is Blair now? I thought he would be here when I awakened."

"He has been here, at your side, ever since he saved you from the ice. You were already sleeping the sleep of the near dead, but he would not give you up. It was the most courageous act we have ever seen. No, he stayed right beside you. But, his professor sent for him. We promised we would call him when you awakened." Neko glanced at Mirake, and the woman nodded.

"We did promise. I will go get him," she said in answer to the old man's unspoken request. She disappeared out the skin flap covering the door.

The old shaman reached out and felt Jim's forehead. "You body is closer to normal now, but you are still cool," he commented. "It is no wonder. You were in the water a long time. Most men would not have survived. You are a true watchman."

Jim's eyes widened in surprise. How the hell did this wrinkled old man know so much about him? "Did Blair...?"

Neko regarded the injured man carefully. "Do you so easily doubt your guide, watchman?"

Embarrassed, Jim looked away. "No...I..."

"It is all right, James Ellison." Reaching under his furs, Neko took out a small, white object. Holding it out for inspection, he smiled. "What do you see?"

Jim slid one arm out from beneath the blankets covering him and was surprised to find the air in the small hut comfortably warm. Taking the carved figure from the old shaman's gnarled hands, he studied it carefully.

The smooth object was close to five inches long. It appeared to have been carved from a tusk of some sort, probably walrus, Jim surmised. Roughly three sided, it was obviously very old, but had been preserved with great care. Turning the carving gently in his sensitive hands, Jim looked closely at the shapes worked into the ivory.

One side represented a bear, its mouth opened to expose sharp, dangerous teeth. Jim vaguely remembered Sandburg telling him once, long ago, that bears were central to the spiritual beliefs of the Inuit. Exactly how, he wasn't certain. Something to do with great power, he thought. The second and third sides bore the faces of men, one young, one older...one with a half-smile, the other serious...one facing right, the other left, so that they looked toward each other forever.

"What do you see?" Neko repeated patiently, laying an encouraging hand on the sentinel's shoulder. "It is all right to allow yourself to see the truth which your eyes behold, watchman. Just as it is all right to admit the truth that lies within."

Jim ran sensitive fingers along the planes of the figure's faces. "I see... I see us, Blair and me. I see that the relationship between sentinel and guide has existed almost as long as man himself. That there have been sentinels and guides here in the frozen north just as in the tropical rainforests." Jim closed his eyes, seeing now with his fingertips...and with his heart. "I see that we each depend upon the other, that one cannot exist without the other, and that at times each of us must bear the weight of the other's weaknesses. Just as we each share in each other's strengths."

Neko nodded in approval. "These things you see are all true, watchman. What do you see of your partner? Let the carving speak to you."

Eyes still closed, Jim turned the carving in his hands as long minutes ticked by. At last, he answered quietly, "I see why he left me, Neko. I understand now."

His voice gentle and encouraging, Neko asked, "What is it that you understand, watchman?"

Keeping his eyes focused on the face of the guide carved into the ivory, Jim spoke in an almost whisper, "That Blair was willing to sacrifice the most important thing in his life for me, the most important part of himself. He gave up that part of who he is - the part of him that was born to be a guide - because he was afraid that he might somehow get me killed, endanger me." Jim's blue eyes opened slowly, swimming in unshed tears, and glowing with wonder. "He thought his leaving was the best thing he could do for me."

The old shaman smiled. "And this surprises you, watchman? It surprises you that the one pledged to protect you, the one willing to die for you, loves you that much?"

After a moment, Jim shook his head. "No, it doesn't surprise me. Not really. But, he was wrong. He was so very wrong." Lifting his eyes from the ivory carving to meet the wise, brown eyes, Jim asked, "Who are you, Neko?"

Before the old man could respond, the skin door flew open and Mirake rushed back into the hut. "He's gone!" she shouted. "The professor and another man have disappeared, and Apaa Tunu-Kingu is gone with them! Some of the young boys were playing down by the lake and saw them carry Kingu away!"

Jim sat bolt upright in bed, resolutely ignoring the protests of his aching body and the pounding in his temples. "Help me get dressed," he barked. Then, seeing the concern in the old shaman's eyes, he added softly, "Please, Neko. Help me find him."