I swallow when I see her, the bite speeded all down her back, and she weakly opens her eyes, not looking at me but sensing we're here, "I can't fight it," She whispers, "I-It hurts..."
Not sure what to say, I look back at Jag, "What has she been doing?"
All you need is faith, trust, and a little bit of pixie-dust!
These were autumn mornings, the time of year when kings of old went forth to conquest; and I, never stirring from my little corner in Calcutta, would let my mind wander over the whole world. — Rabindranath Tagore, The Cabuliwallah
