Unformatted text preview: wo men not understanding at all of course, and then out of the heart of the glen came the roaring wind, so fierce and huge it wailed against the mountains. The tents flapped and whipped in the wind. The men ran to steady them. The lanterns went out. The wind became a gale, and as Mary Beth crept to my side, and held tight to my arm, a storm came down on Donnelaith, a storm of rain and thunder so fierce that we were all cowering before it. All save I. I righted myself soon enough, realizing it was pointless to cower, and I stared back into it. I stared up into the heavens as the rain pelted and stung my face. "Damn you, St. Ashlar, that's who you are! Go to hell with you!" I cried. "A saint, a deposed saint, a saint knocked from his throne! Go back to hell with you. You are no saint. You are a daemon!" One tent was torn loose and carried away. The guides ran to stop 343 the other. Mary Beth tried to quiet me. The wind and the rain gave their full breath, strong perhaps as a hurricane...
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This note was uploaded on 02/20/2010 for the course WRITING 220.200 taught by Professor Julie during the Spring '10 term at Johns Hopkins.
- Spring '10