Anne's head, the worn brace on her knee, and the unutterable tragedy of her pale nakedness. Some of the blood that covered her upper body was still bright red and wet. He settled his fingers automatically over her pulse, brushing aside a cord she had around her neck, knowing the search for life would be futile. He was so busy trying not to see her, that it was a full twenty seconds before his fingers gave him the message: she still had a pulse. It was thready, but it was there, and in that moment Glen's hands felt a faint movement as the naked, bloodied woman drew a tiny breath.
Glen shouted aloud and stumbled to his feet, fumbling cell phone with shaking hands. Anne Waverly was alive.
Thus here the
Which (Tract) was by George Ripley Canon penn'd;
It was composed, writ, and sign'd his owne,
In Anno twice Sev'n hundred sev'nty one;
Reader! Assist him, make it thy desire,
That after Life he may have gentle Fire.
Amen.
