There was a tearing sound and the cloth of her habit ripped apart as the smothered point drove through it, missing its intended target. She would never look squarely at these dream forms that mocked the social order in which she lived, never admit she listened to the soft whisperings in her ear. “I killed him. Ten thousand steeds appeared to be trampling aloft, charged with the work of devastation. “Gracious!” she exclaimed to herself.
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