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. "There,
there," said the tiny old woman, her teeth clicking with
every word. "You don't want to lose a drop, do you,
darling?" Her shrill, scratchy voice was irritating, but there
was no mistaking it was full of love. She wiped her
shriveled hands on her shabby black robe. "After what
you've suffered, darling, a meal is just what you need."
"Stop calling me DARLING, you old hag!" growled
Gorath, spitting stew across the room. "You don't even
know me!"
"But I do love you!" Zorna protested softly, her feelings
hurt. "And I'll cook, and clean, and care for you for the rest
of your life." She brushed away a tear, wiped her dripping
nose, and smiled lovingly. "We'll have such a happy time
together."
This thought horrified Gorath. He tried to rise, but he
couldn't budge. All he could move was his head. That's why
he could offer no resistance when Zoma again stuffed slug
stew into his mouth.
Gorath couldn't believe his terrible luck. He had been the
most decorated and feared human officer in the
dragonarmy. In the war campaigns against the Que-shu, no
one had razed more villages, slaughtered more enemies, or
enslaved more women and children than the mighty
Gorath! For amusement, he had broken men's backs with
his bare hands and held beautiful women prisoner in his
tent, forcing them to do his bidding
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