““You will drink?” “No,” she whispered. Hunter uncapped the gourd and pressed it upon her. “You must drink, Blue Eyes.” “No.” Hunter retied the canteen strap to his surcingle, swallowing down a surge of anger. “You will not die. This Comanche has spoken it. It will be for nothing, this suffering.” She leaned her head against his shoulder and closed her eyes. Hunter tightened his hand on the reins, frustration and fear building within him. Last night she had saved his life. How could he watch while she ended hers?””
