She raided their settlements in shifts, staggering her kills from tribe to tribe, undiscriminating of their petty politics. The taste of his sweat was intoxicating, like sweet brandy, like blood. Yes, yes; that was all very well in ordinary cases; but yonder was a soul in travail, if ever she had seen one. ‘Will you let be?’ Instead she grasped his hand tighter. ’ Lucilla sat up.
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