A thin streak of yellow smoke rose--a
little snaky flame--a slight crackling hiss! Then as the wind caught the blaze
there came a rushing, low roar. Fire, like magic, raced and spread before the
wind toward the forest.
Lucy had forgotten that Creech had meant to drive her into fire. The sudden
horror of it almost caused collapse. Commotion within--cold and quake and
nausea and agony--deadened her hearing and darkened her sight. But Creech's
hard hands quickened her. She could see him then, though not clearly. His face
seemed inhuman, misshapen, gray. His hands pulled at her arms--a last
precaution to see that she was tightly bound. Then with the deft fingers of a
rider he slipped Sage King's bridle.
Lucy could not trust her sight. What made the King stand so still? His ears
went up--stiff--pointed!
Creech stepped back and laid a violent hand on Lucy's garments. She
bent--twisted her neck to watch him. But her sight grew no clearer. Still she
saw he meant to strip her naked. He braced himself for a strong, ripping pull.
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