I was raised not to fear anything. I was told to face it, taste it, welcome it.
I haven’t faced real fear before.
Not fear for this huge ball of fourrure whose trying to smash my brain out. Not fear for my life. But fear that this glorious angel, who is standing a foot away – wait, I think I just saw her up the Redwood – wait she couldn’t be up that tree, how could she? Unless my brain’s already smashed inside my skull.
Where was I?
Incoherency. Damaged brain, no doubt.
Again, I fear that this glorious angel, nearer to our fight now, would be hurt, harmed in any way.
“Stand back!” I yelled...
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