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. ‘Where was I? Oh yes. " "You're fine, too. The sun was rising, illuminating the trees in black as if they were drawn in ink.
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