She felt the whack from about six feet away, kitty corner. She thought study would be better. She passed him silently as she dropped Michelle’s dried corpse into the open clay pit awkwardly, like a discarded doll. He had a flattish, perhaps, it should be called, a flattened nose, and a brown, leathernlooking hide, that seemed as if it had not unfrequently undergone the process of tanning. What she did not know, and what she was never to know, was that the divine fire was hers.
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