He would always be her friend, too. One might have said that these trees grieved for their native soil; and, grieving, refused to bear. His stories had enchanted her, even if in some deep corner of her heart she guessed they were not entirely true. ” Her urge to drink deeply of his blood was growing insane, ignited by what he had already donated. “What you have said is a ridiculous falsehood,” she declared scornfully. This time she was indeed beaten. A forgotten island beyond the ship lanes, where that grim Hand would falter and move blindly in its search for him! From what he had read, there wouldn't be much to do; and in the idle hours he could write.
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