"I'm a friend. Do you hear me? I'm a friend."

The man didn't move.

"Mister?" Janna whispered, touching his naked shoulder, shaking him lightly, calling to him in her low, husky voice.

There was no sign that he heard.

Carefully Janna sat on her heels next to the man, letting fragrant pinon boughs brush over her. She slid her hand around his neck until she could press against the jugular… and breathed out. Her first impression was of fiery heat, then of the strength in his muscular neck, and then finally she felt the slow, somewhat ragged beating of his heart. From the size of the lump on the side of his head, she was surprised that he had remained conscious long enough to get this far.

"You're not going another inch, are you?" she asked very softly.

The man didn't disagree.

With gentle fingers Janna probed his head wound. Though it was puffy, there was no softness of crushed bone beneath. Nor was blood pooling in the dirt anywhere around his big body, which meant that none of his wounds were bleeding him to death.

Once Janna assured herself of that, she didn't waste any more time checking injuries. The stranger's extraordinary efforts had ended up defeated by a dead end against a stone cliff, but his original plan was still good-take such a difficult route up the side of the plateau that Cascabel wouldn't think to look there for an injured man. All Janna had to do was backtrack, thoroughly wiping out the man's trail as she went. Then she would lay a false trail in another direction and sneak back up to the stranger to make sure that he kept quiet until Cascabel tired of the game and went back to camp.