Chap­ter XIII opens amid the fran­tic rush through a canyon, where the pro­tag­o­nist and his group flee from the relent­less Sagoths. Their path is nar­row, the ter­rain hos­tile, and their destination—Sari’s pro­tec­tive cliffs—remains dis­tant. Ten­sion spikes when it becomes clear that Hoo­ja, once count­ed on for assis­tance, has betrayed them. His deceit isn’t random—it’s delib­er­ate and per­son­al. Old resent­ment has dri­ven him to aban­don the par­ty at their most vul­ner­a­ble moment. Trust frac­tured, the escape is no longer just about evad­ing the Sagoths—it’s now com­pli­cat­ed by the wounds of betray­al. In this bru­tal world, even alliances must be ques­tioned, as loy­al­ties shift like sand under­foot.

Faced with the immi­nent dan­ger, the pro­tag­o­nist makes a bold deci­sion to turn him­self into bait. To spare Per­ry and Ghak, he draws the pur­su­ing Sagoths away, giv­ing them a slim chance at safe­ty. This act is not hero­ic for the sake of glory—it’s tac­ti­cal and root­ed in gen­uine care. With only a crude bow and a lim­it­ed sup­ply of arrows, he leads them into unfa­mil­iar ter­rain. Though the Sagoths are strong and vicious, they are untrained in deal­ing with ranged weapons. This gives the pro­tag­o­nist a slight edge. He uses every advan­tage the wild gives him, not through brute force, but through agili­ty and tim­ing. The chase becomes a gru­el­ing test of endurance and clev­er­ness.

The ter­rain turns against him when he reach­es a rocky ledge, trapped with no clear escape. Here, the ten­sion sharpens—nowhere to run, his strength fad­ing, and ene­mies approach­ing. At this break­ing point, a mas­sive cave bear emerges, drawn by the scent of fear and the move­ment of prey. The sud­den appear­ance changes every­thing. Instead of being the hunt­ed, the pro­tag­o­nist becomes a spec­ta­tor in a sav­age spec­ta­cle. The bear, a force of nature, crash­es into the Sagoths, tear­ing through them with pri­mal fury. Chaos ensues. The preda­tor turns the bat­tle­field into a blood-soaked advan­tage. The bear’s inter­ven­tion isn’t born from kindness—it’s instinct. But its tim­ing saves the protagonist’s life.

Watch­ing the car­nage, the pro­tag­o­nist finds him­self torn between awe and ter­ror. He knows the bear is not an ally, but its rage offers a tem­po­rary shield. His sur­vival hangs on moments—when to run, when to hide, when to breathe. The dan­ger doesn’t van­ish when the Sagoths fall. It sim­ply changes shape. But for­tune favors him again. Before the bear can turn its atten­tion toward him, Ghak and the Sar­i­an war­riors arrive. The time­ly appear­ance shifts the bal­ance once more. With the Sagoths dec­i­mat­ed and the bear dri­ven away by num­bers and noise, the pro­tag­o­nist is pulled from the brink. Exhaust­ed, injured, but alive, he finds him­self safe for now.

The after­math reveals more than just the scars of bat­tle. Ghak recounts the sto­ry of the bear’s attack with a mix of respect and unease, under­scor­ing Pellucidar’s unpre­dictable dan­gers. In this land, sur­vival often hinges not on strength alone, but on the favor of wild fate. Hooja’s betray­al casts a long shad­ow, remind­ing them that the ene­my is not always in front of them. Some­times, it walks beside them, wait­ing for the right moment to strike. Yet even in betray­al, the group grows tighter. Trust is test­ed, and those who remain gain deep­er loy­al­ty. Every escape, every ambush, every encounter with nature’s vio­lence adds to the shap­ing of a hard­ened group ready to defy the Mahars’ dom­i­nance.

This chap­ter does more than push the sto­ry forward—it expos­es the raw core of sur­vival in Pel­lu­ci­dar. Con­flict is con­stant, but it’s not just about swords and beasts. It’s about choic­es, sac­ri­fice, and the instinct to pro­tect. The pro­tag­o­nist, once an explor­er, now steps ful­ly into the role of leader. His jour­ney is no longer about under­stand­ing this strange world—it’s about con­quer­ing it. Hooja’s deceit and the Sagoths’ pur­suit are not just obstacles—they are shap­ing forces. Through them, bonds are strength­ened and instincts sharp­ened. The wild does not for­give weak­ness, but it rewards those who learn fast and adapt. And now, with the cliffs of Sari clos­er than ever, the next chap­ter in their resis­tance begins.