His body was filthy, covered with dirt, scratches and streaks of dried sweat. His lopsided face, wrapped with blood-stained strips of leather, swelled...hideously. The Light-Eye scarcely noticed his condition. Overcome by rage, he acted on instinct, and before anyone knew what was happening, his hand wrapped around the shaman’s throat. People shouted, pulling at his arm, his body, begging him, demanding him to stop, but he neither heard nor saw them. The Spiritwalker rasped, pleading for his life. She had a room she wanted to fix up as a music room for her piano and some recording equipment and needed a few receptacles and lites installed. So I told her when I could come over and check out the job for her.I was at her place at ten on Saturday, she made me a cup of coffee and had a dozen of Mother Parkers doughnuts. I enjoyed visiting Aunt Gert. She is five foot seven with curves in the right places, bountiful bosoms; dark brown shoulder length hair; and lips that you'd beg to kiss. Aunt. More

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