She could still feel his psychic presence all around her, and she knew he was thinking of her. “Mike, what’s going on?” She sat up, groggily rubbing her eyes. Clotilde’s stunning green eyes were reflected in the gazes of the tender young children, but their faces had been hollow and sunken, their hair matted, and their clothing in bad need of repair. Turning, she flew for the nearest door. That was one of the compensations for having consigned himself to this part of the world.
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