She drew her naked arms around herself. By this time, the door was unlocked, and drawing his sword, Quilt entered the cell. Instinctively she imitated this action, chilled and a little frightened at the expression of terror that confronted her. The fever came. “Something. Her mind invoked her husband, who she imagined lying dead in a ditch somewhere, tortured and killed by brigands or perhaps eaten by creatures like herself, a fate he actually deserved.
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