Gerald glanced down and saw her dash at a spread of blood on his own hand, only now realising that her dagger had found its mark. What else was there lurked in shadows and deep places; if in some mood of reverie it came out into the light, it was presently overwhelmed and hustled back again into hiding. The taste of his sweat was intoxicating, like sweet brandy, like blood. They are things faint and slight in themselves, as physical facts, but they are like the detonator of a bomb: they let loose the explosive. I AM an abandoned female.
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