look at the young man dressed all in black, of medium height and slim
build, who made up for his lack of bulging muscle with a supple and
deadly grace. This was enhanced by the gift of somehow dominating all
the space around him, so that he effortlessly became the focal point of
any picture—the way a black panther might become the focal point if it
were walking lazily down a crowded city street.
Even here, where menace and an aspect of outright evil were
commonplace, this young man exuded a quality of danger that made
people want to stay out of his line of sight, much less his way.
Meanwhile Elena and both Meredith and Bonnie were looking
around for some sort of medical assistance, or even for something clean
that would staunch wounds. After about a minute, they realized that it
wasn’t just going to appear, so Elena appealed to the crowd.
“Does anyone know a doctor? A healer?” she shouted. The
audience merely watched her. They seemed loath to get involved with a
girl who had obviously defied the black-clad demon now wringing the
slave owner’s neck.
“So you all think it’s just fine,” Elena shouted, hearing the loss of
control, the disgust and fury in her own voice, “for a bastard like that to
be whipping a starving pregnant woman?”
There were a few downcast eyes, a few scattered replies on the