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Old 08-07-2011, 04:44 PM   #1
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I could only hope that at this early hour the girls were still sleeping and dreaming… Simple, straightforward, uncomplicated children’s dreams. I opened the door and went into the dormitory. For some reason I’d bee christian louboutin outlet n expecting some kind of state institution, halfway between a children’s home and a hospital—iron bedsteads, the dull glow of a night lamp, depressing curtains, and children sleeping as if they were standing at attention… But in christian louboutin wedges fact it was christian louboutin discount all very nice. The only light came from the lantern on the pillar outside. The shadows swayed gently, <a href="http://www.timberlandfeel.com/timberland-6-inch-premium-c-12.html"><strong>timberland 6 inch premium waterproof</strong></a> a fresh sea breeze blew in at the open windows and I could smell the scent of wildflowers. The screen of the switched-off television glowed dully in the corner, and the walls were covered with drawings in colored pencil and watercolor paintings that looked bright and cheerful even in the semi-darkness. The little girls were sleeping, sprawled out across their beds or tucked underneath the blankets, with all their things neatly arranged on their bedside lockers or scattered untidily on the headboards and the backs of the chairs—swimming costumes that were still wet, skirts, little pairs of jeans and socks. A good psychologist could have walked through that dormitory at night and composed a full character portrait of those girls… But I didn’t need one. I walked slowly between the beds, adjusting blankets that had slid off, lifting up arms and legs that had slipped christian louboutin shoes sale down to touch the floor. The girls were sleeping soundly. Soundly and with no dreams… I only got lucky with the seventh girl. She was about eleven years old, plump with light hair. An ordinary little girl whimpering quietly in her sleep. Because she was having a bad dream… I shoes christian louboutin knelt down beside her bed, reached out my hand, and touched her forehead. Gently, with just the tips of my fingers. I felt Power. As I was now, without any Other powers, I couldn’t have read an ordinary dream. But sensing the opportunity to nourish yourself is a different matter. It all takes place at the level of animal reactions, like an infant’s sucking reflex. And I saw it… It was a bad dream. The girl was dreaming that she was going home—their session wasn’t over yet, christian louboutin shoes but she was being taken away because her mother had fallen ill and her gloomy, frowning father was dragging her toward the bus. She hadn’t even had time <a href="http://www.timberlandfeel.com/timberland-rolltop-c-15.html"><strong>timberland roll top black</strong></a> to say goodbye to her friends, she hadn’t had any time to take a last dip in the sea and take some little stones that were very important… and she was struggling and asking her father to wait, but he was just getting more and more angry… and saying something about disgraceful behavior, about how girls her age shouldn’t have to be beaten, but since she was behaving like this, she could forget about hi christian louboutin shoes sale s promise not to punish her with his belt anymore… It was a really bad dream. Nastya’s departure had affected the little girl very badly… And anybody would have tried to help the child at that moment. A human being would have stroked her hair and said something affectionate in a gentle voice, maybe sung a lullaby… anything to interrupt the dream. A Light Other would have used his Power to turn the dream inside out, so that the father would laugh and say the little girl’s mother was well again and go running to the sea with her… He would have replaced the cruel but realistic dream with a sweet lie. But I’m a Dark Other. And I did what I could. I drank her Power. Sucked it into myself—the gloomy father, and the sick mother, and the little friends lost forever, and the sea stones left behind, and the shameful beating… The little girl gave a quiet squeak, like a mouse caught under something heavy. And then she be Replica Copy Christian Louboutin gan breathing calmly and regularly. There’s not a lot of Power in children’s dreams. It’s not like the ritual killing that we had threatened the Light Ones with and which provides a truly monstrous discharge of energy. These were dreams, just dreams… Light nourishing broth for an ailing witch… I got up off my knees, feeling slightly dizzy. No, I hadn’t recovered my lost powers yet. It would take a dozen dreams like that to fill the yawning gap. But christian louboutin bags those dreams would happen. And I would do my best to encourage <a href="http://www.timberlandfeel.com/timberland-6-inch-premium-c-12.html"><strong>timberland 6 inch professional</strong></a> them. None of the other little girls were dreaming. Well, one was, but her dream was no use to me, a stupid little girl’s dream about the freckle-faced boy who had given her yet another of those stupid stones with a hole in them—what they called “chicken gods.” I suppose chickens must have their own gods. I stood beside this girl’s bed—she was probably the most physically advanced of them all. She even had the first beginnings of breasts. I touched her forehead several times, trying to find at least something, but there was nothing. Sea, sun, and sand, water splashing, and that freckle-faced boy. Not a drop of anger, envy, or sadness. A Light magician could have drawn Power from her by drinking in her dream and then gone away satisfied. But I was wasting my time here. Never mind. There would be another evening and another night. And my plump donor’s dream would come back to her— I had drawn out all of her fear, but not its causes. Her nightmare would return, and I would help her again. The important thing was not to try too hard, not to push the girl into a genuine nervous breakdown—I had no right to do that. That would smack of serious magical intervention, and if the Light Ones had even a single observer in the camp, or even—who knows what tricks the Darkness might play—if there was an Other there from the Inquisition, then I would be in serious trouble. And I wasn’t about to let Zabulon down again. Never! It was amazing that he had forgiven me for what had happened the previous summer. But he wouldn’t forgive me a second time. At ten o’clock in the morning I went to breakfast with my charges. Nastya had been right—I was managing just fine. When the girls had woken up, they had been a bit cautious at first. How could they not have been, when the leader they had already come to love had gone away in the middle of the night to see her sick mother, and another young woman had come into the dormitory <a href="http://blog.139.li/blog.php?do=showone&uid=771&type=blog&itemid=90755 "><strong>The Jogging footwear of Nike | current</strong></a> instead of her—a stranger, an unknown quantity, someone quite unlike Nastya? I had immediately felt the unfriendly wary gaze of eighteen pairs of eyes on me—they were all together and I was isolated.
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