Alex raised the machete, and noticed the beast's eyes followed it. He looked at the blade; it was coated with sand-thickened blood. Maybe Alex wasn't ... Winter, but ... this was a Winter's blade, brought by a Winter's hand, and ... something about blood...He was going to die anyway. Maybe he could buy Emmeline enough time to get away.... Bishop was a hero, wasn't he?Alex's face hardened. Maybe if he had to die, he could take a piece of this fucker with him.Alex extended the machete in front of. We did write to each other, regular letters in 1972-73, used to take a week at best, sometimes 10 days. We would share the news, each cycle of letters sometimes taking a month or more. She wrote of her achieving womanhood, and how she particularly missed me then. We would write of school work, and how we missed doing assignments together. As a year passed, she would ask me if I had made any another special friend in my new place. It was a boys only school, and contacts with girls were very. More

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