Many things were only words, sounds; she could not construct these words and sounds into objects; or, if she did, invariably missed the mark. But one thing troubled him, and because of it he might never arrive on the beach. Russell burned like a beacon, but Capes illuminated by darting flashes and threw light, even if it was but momentary light, into a hundred corners that Russell left steadfastly in the shade. Blood dripped down one side of her forehead.
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