From the book The Druid Of Shannara By Terry Brooks
The daylight faded into darkness
and still he sat, waiting patiently for her to wake.
He studied the line of her body as she lay sleeping,
the curve of her hip and shoulder,
the soft rounding of her back.
She was such a tiny thing,
just a little bit of flesh and bone beneath the coverings,
the smallest spark of life.
He marveled at the texture of her skin,
at the coloring,
the absence of flaws.
She might have been molded by some great artist
whose reflection and skill
had created a once-and-only masterpiece…..
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