Wilhelmina Wang jumped into the clear, cold Baltic Sea. She dove headfirst, for the row of corals, and the flip of tail she could see disappearing around it. She was after the meer-maid.
Her black hair like a dark halo behind her, Wilhelmina gave chase to the meer-maid she knew was just around the coral bend. She was determined. If she could only get to the meer-maid, and make her—
Suddenly she was pulled backwards by her hair, and pulled down, down, down. She had been already diving downward, but this out of control, panic-inducing backwards plunge, head first with no idea except down, down, down, flooded terror through her body and mind. She was not in control, and her calculated time and breath for being under water was completely out of balance. The hunger for air became so great she thought she would die of the ache and the yearning. She fought with her arms and legs but the water was a phantom and flowed around her limbs. Strong, relentless, pitiless hands were pulling on her black loose hair, and pulling her into the deep. The bright sky above the surface was getting dimmer, and the sense of suffocation was destroying her mind and will even as she thrashed, with not a sound in the deep, apathetic sea.
In the watery darkness, she felt lips on her lips. Her mouth opened, and air, sweet air came inside.
Different hands, loosened the grip of the relentless pale hands that had previously gripped her hair. And arms came around her, that brought warmth into the indifferent darkness of the sea. All this time she breathed the steady sweet air that came into her mouth, and she sucked it down into the lungs again and again. And the lips that were on hers held there, and gave. Until sense returned to her mind, and the kiss lengthened and deepened, and she was kissing him back.
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Li Bai, riding on Laohu, was covering the last meters until the King’s Stone in great bounds and astonishing leaps. The tiger bounded up the last rampart, and into the stone-hewn halls of the Saxon King.
Before them, Cinderella was shooting arrow after arrow from her crossbow. Steady and fast, she pulled arrow after arrow from the quiver strung behind her, and loaded then fired into the undulating waves of ninjas rounding them.
Li Bai pulled out his 劍 jian sword. The 青銅 indigo bronze of the blade cast the shadow of 殺 killing into the hall. The stone room was already flowing over with wine-red blood. Many ninjas lay dead on the floor with an arrow through them or hewn by the Saxon King’s mighty battle axe. But the indigo bronze blade of Li Bai brought such an atmosphere of killing that everyone suddenly seemed to have trouble breathing the now-heavier air.
As if reacting to a signal in an unhearable pitch, the remaining ninjas suddenly stopped, picked up their dead, and leapt back out through the windows and doors, and then their barely audible steps disappeared. Coming and leaving like summer thunder and lightning. If it were not for the flood-like blood puddling the parquet floor, one would have trouble believing it had happened at all.
The Saxon King, putting down his battle axe, welcomed Li Bai and Laohu, “You received my letter.”
But Li Bai was not looking at the king. He was looking past him, to Cinderella.
And Cinderella, aware of being looked at, lifted her dainty chin imperceptibly higher, her profile clear and beautiful as porcelain. Her strawberry blonde hair like flame, having tumbled out during the fight. Her translucent skin took on color at being watched, and her cheeks looked a pink flower, as fresh as one in a meadow. As if she were not surrounded by dead and bled-dry men.