She saw the moonlit waters, the black shadow of the proa, the moon-fire that ran down the far edge of the bellying sail, the silent natives: no sound except the slapping of the outrigger and the low sibilant murmur of water falling away from the sides—and the beating of her heart. He felt his heart beat faster and faster—his self-restraint slipping away. His arm entered the round window of the white haze of her vision, his wrist spouting blood in currents, dripping on the stone floor. . ” “Alive,” Annabel moaned, her eyes large with terror.
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