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That look gave me such a rush. I screamed triumphantly in her face as I rammed my spear through her gut. She collapsed onto me crying and just asked, ‘Why?’” Silent tears ran down her cheeks. “She was just a little girl like me. She didn’t want to fight me, but I didn’t care and cut her down without a moment’s hesitation. I’m… what kind of monster am I?” asian she cried, putting her face in her hands. I moved close to her and wrapped one arm around her, pulling her into my shoulder. Emmy sobbed quietly as I stroked her hair. “You saved my life today,” I said soothingly, “You fought to protect me, exotic and for that I am grateful. When we fight, we do so to protect ourselves and those we care about. When you find something you care about, fight as hard as you can to protect it and don’t stop fighting until that thing is safe. You’re a strong, gifted young woman; there’s a lot you can protect with your strength. Never forget that.” Emmy sniffled again and shook her head. After a few long seconds, she shuffled her feet and stood up straight as I released her arm. Wiping her face and nose on her arm, she nodded her thanks and sat heavily in the sand, staring once busty again out over the beach. Sensing her need to be alone, I patted her twice on the head and walked off. I didn’t know whether or not my words made her feel any better, but I hoped that they would. Killing exacts a heavy psychological toll on the mind. No matter how many battles you fight, no matter how many people are slain by your hand, it is impossible to get used to killing. Every warrior eventually has a moment like Emmy’s, a moment where the gruesome reality of taking another human being’s life bursts through the dams that we all erect to block out that torment. For some, like Emmy, that moment comes after the first or second battle. For others, it comes after a lifetime of killing. There was no shame in crying over the crimes you’ve committed, no matter how justified those crimes were. Crying is a sign you’re japan still human. I could not trust any warrior that did not cry every once in a while. I spotted Sub-Commander Bernette as she helped carry a bleeding spearman to one of the two collection area on the beach. There, the wounded were sorted by severity. Those with minor wounds were helped up the beach into Zavala for healing. Those with survivable wounds were carried up first. The wounded whose survival was questionable were given whatever treatment was available as they waited to be brought up to the town. Those with fatal wounds were comforted and then left to suffer and die. Some japanese of my soldiers filtered through the wounded, singling out the most courageous or skillful for nomination as thrallsvar or even villein. “But we do ‘mark’ some mortals.” Girl: I am sure it was only a few seconds asian but it seemed like forever that his semen continued to shoot. Probably from the call earlier; he surmised. Her huge perky boobs bounced and her hand rubbed her clit furiously. He gripped his cock tighter. We exchanged numbers, and I gave her a smile. She was a small girl and easy for the two strong men to overcome. I've always called it 'playing with myself.'" Her fathers was the first to get up and shake my hand and thanked me for coming. This woman was a walking cutlery set. Her terror surged, almost surpassing her sexual excitement. exotic She was muttering something about some japanese guy. Immediately, my priority was guiding her to stand and turning her so our faces are right next to japan each other. How does it feel?" "I have more surprises for you" And then Lisa and John both sat there at the bar and chit-chatted. I kept myself busty rigid, hearing the air whistle past me, bearing the gut-turning sensation of falling. He thought about the headlines in the paper of when that power would spiral out of control and become public. They looked at each other momentarily and then Mariel took the lead, “What is was the college subject that interested you most Mr. Brolend?” She asked politely.