The small predator subconsciously acknowledged the larger one. ’ ‘I thought you were dead,’ Melusine confided. She may have any number of wasting diseases, but they cannot survive in our bodies. The struggle had dislodged the white wimple, which was evidently too large for her, and her black hair broke free, whirling like a whiplash about her head as her hands curled into fists, coming up to beat at his chest, her little teeth bared for attack.
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