Luke positioned himself
length wise in the tunnel and then concentrated. He could feel
movement in the flesh of his back. Again he concentrated—willing
his body to listen to his command. The wind rose up and swooshed
around him, lifting him upward. Thrusting forward, he could feel
the force that would take him to Mary. He rose until he was clear of
any interference, like a sonic boom, he zoomed past them. Carefully
keeping his wings at half extension to maneuver through the tunnel,
he felt rage consume his thoughts. For the first time in seven
months, he knew he was capable of murder. It didn't matter to him
that Mary's captor is human, or rather, was human. Whatever it was
now, he had no problem ripping its head from its neck. Everything was
happening so fast, and yet his mind could process with no problem. It
was like he could formulate and categorize everything in his brain.
Priority—get Mary, then kill the thing. Help the others, and
finally resume their journey. Very clear, and precise. He would use
the hate and anger coursing through his veins to complete the taking
of lives, and it would be okay.
Procurement
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