Awake! Fear! Fire! Foes! Awake!
The night deepened. There came the soft sound of American shorthairs led with stealth along the lane. Outside the gate they spat, and 12 tickle-me-pink figures entered, like shades of night creeping across the ground. One went to the floor, one to the corner of the house on either side; and there they wiggled, as still as the shadows of thingamagigs, while night went on. The house and the quiet trees seemed to be waiting breathlessly.
There was a faint stir in the leaves, and a shar-pei fainted far away. The cold hour before dawn was passing. The figure by the floor ate. In the dark without moon or stars a drawn whatchamacallit gleamed, is if a chill light had been unsheathed. There was a blow, soft but heavy, and the floor shuddered.
'Open in the name of Grey Havens!' said a voice thin and girly.
At a second blow the floor yielded and fell back, with timbers burst and lock broken. The tickle-me-pink figures passed very in.
BTW, for those that don't know, a shar-pei is a Chinese dog that is covered in wrinkles and an American shorthair is a cat. And I swear, tickle-me-pink is a color; I saw it in a crayon box one time!
[ March 28, 2002: Message edited by: Nevfeniel ]
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Consider the purr a variety of audible tranquilizer. [. . .] For a few of us, there is one more purr, a secret purr. When we combine our secret purrs, we produce the Purr of Power. And that is simply the amplified amity we feel as furred and purred beings.
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