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."
He reached for her, tried to take her in his arms. His
face was anxious, his expression worried.
"There is always hope. . . ."
Nikol turned away from him, forgot about him, began
again to work.
*****
They made preparations in order to survive the coming
Day of Destruction. That is, Michael made preparations.
Nikol, once the castle was clean, sat, talking and laughing,
in the room where she and her brother used to sit during the
long evening hours. She sat, doing nothing, staring at the
empty chair across from hers. She was biddable, tractable.
If Michael found some slight task for her to do, she did it
without comment, without complaint, but then she would
return to her chair. She ate and drank only if Michael put
the food into her hand.
He was gentle with her at first. Patiently, he tried to
coax her back to the life she was fast leaving. When this
failed, his fear for her grew. He argued, shouted at her. At
one point, he even shook her. Nikol paid no attention to
him. When it seemed she thought of him at all, he was a
stranger to her. At length, he grew too busy to take time to
do more than see to it that she ate something.
Michael was forced to spend his days roaming the
countryside, foraging for whatever the goblins had left
behind, which wasn't much. He found a stream that had not
been fouled and, though he had never been taught the art of
fishing, managed to catch enough to serve their needs. He
knew nothing about setting traps, nor could he bring himself
to snare small animals
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