The yellow firelight flashed in brilliance from the eerily thin leaping
flame figures, and suddenly, Si'Wren became one of them.
As they danced, she danced, and as they leaped, she leaped with them,
in an entrancingly intricate pattern of leaps and prances, as the light
of the Invisible God shined from within herself to light the way for
her tiny dancing feet.
All around her the demons whirled and chased, ever seeking to carry her
away from the others, and away from the holy light of the Invisible
God, but she, like the fiery dancing girls, could not be caught by them
for all of their efforts, for that Perfect Light was like a living fire
within Si'Wren.
The smell of the fire's smoke reached her once, and she realized that
the demons were tormented by the fiery light of the eerily beautiful
dancing girls, for she smelled the smoke of their torment, and as she
lay staring unblinkingly at the fire, she danced endlessly into the
darkness of the night.
* * *
When she awoke again, it was to the morning sounds of the sleeping and
hung-over alike, sighing and snoring all around her in the cypress
bungalow, and to renewed thirst, chills, and constant tormented
shivering from the pronounced effects of the fever.
There was an aching in her beaten head and face, and a curious,
inexplicable emotional void in her soul where once her long-fervent
love of her Master Rababull had long flourished eternal.
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