Rastus lay on the ground, watching with strange detachment as his blood oozed into his clothing. He realised with strange surprise that he was dying. There comes a clarity before death, and this is what he saw. His eyes, burning in a face white as he began to go into shock, registered towering figures - four or five. And as he succumbed at last to the dark pull, his eyes concentrated on the face of one of them, and a thin sound escaped his lips. "Father..."
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The inimical is often more instructive than the benign. Between screams, try to pay attention.
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