The last thing that she remembered was her eyes crossing as she tried to focus upon the crunch of leaves as she lay heaving upon them, dampening them further with the outpouring of her sweat as it leaked from her clothing. His tongue was more ready, his wit more keen than usual. No offence, I hope. Sheppard raised her hand, and the malediction trembled upon her tongue. A Hand that strove to reach his shoulder, relentless, soulless but lawful. .
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