His mouth tasted awful, vile and sour, and his thirst pushed all else from his pained head. He tried to spit and failed. He levered himself to his kne...s and attempted to stand, surprised to find that his hands and feet were tied. With a groan, he passed out again, face down in the fragrant hay.Despite the heat, Wainder was not sweating. His scratched face was pale and dry. The lump on the side of his head had stopped bleeding.High above the French's barnyard, a red hawk sailed in huge circles. And she thought my own stories were great, even when she claimed her work was utterly execrable dreck. You might say I was her biggest fan. She always laughed at that one, and said I was probably her *only* fan. But I always tried to convince her of her own worth as a writer. Heck, once, to boost her ego, I even sent my recommendation to a British tg author, Geri Core, to suggest she interview Nancy as a tg author for her website. Geri had a great website; it was quite brilliant, actually,. More

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