Gudrun felt as if she were at that final, breathless moment before breaking the surface of the water after a deep dive. The internal pressure was nearly beyond her constraints. An overwhelming desire to spit on her cruel harasser swept over Gudrun. Fear, rage and anguish smashed together within her aching chest. She desired to taunt Sepanyahd, to fling back at him impudence, to mock him and his cohorts for their inability to locate and contain one, solitary human boy. A fury unlike anything she had ever known rose within her. Just as she gasped into her lungs the air sufficient for her triumphant, defiant rejection of Sepanyahd, a new image quickly formed in her awakened mind, even as she glared at her subjugator.
Like thick mists rolling up from an ice-chilled marsh, a ghostly specter took shape, nearly obliterating Gudrun’s awareness of the hellishness surrounding her. The vaporous shape was unknown to her and peculiar, yet she felt no fear of it. Only a deep sense of serenity and curiosity. Similar to the other images she’d seen, this one also floated before her in a greyish, fog-like cloud. Yet, it differed in its clarity and sharpness. The others Gudrun knew to be grounded in memories, while this one struck her as being somehow real, as if she were really seeing a winged creature flying at little more than arm’s length, directly before her face. She could plainly see that the creature was a gargoyle, and yet she knew instinctively that it was unlike those acting as her jailers.
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