![]() ![]() How long had she been falling? Hours, it seemed, and she was having pain in holding her breath. Buttercup’s ears were now caked with Snow Sand all the way in, and her nose was filled with Snow Sand, both nostrils, and she knew if she opened her eyes a million tiny fine bits of Snow Sand would seep behind her eyelids, and now she was beginning to panic badly. And the slower she sank, the quicker he could dive down after her and catch her. Westley had instructed her on how to behave if this happened, and she followed his words now: she spread her arms and spread her fingers and forced herself into the position resembling that of a dead-man’s float in swimming, all this because Westley had told her to because the more she could spread herself, the slower she would sink. She was just falling, gently, through this soft powdery mass, falling farther and farther from anything resembling life, but she could not allow herself to panic. The sand was the finest in the world, and there was no bulk to it whatsoever, and, at first, no unpleasantness. Westley turned only in time to see her disappear.īuttercup had simply let her attention wander for a moment, the ground seemed solid enough, and she had no idea what Snow Sand looked like anyway but once her front foot began to sink in, she could not pull back, and even before she could scream, she was gone. Don’t you agree?”īuttercup wanted to, totally, and she would have too only by then, the Snow Sand had her. Actually, I think that’s more precaution than necessary, because, to tell you the truth, I’m almost disappointed this place is bad, all right, but it’s not that bad. “What we’ll do once I’ve got this properly done is,” he told her, moving steadily on beneath the giant trees, “we’ll attach ourselves to each other, so that way, no matter what the darkness, we’ll be close. He had cut a very long piece of strong vine and coiled it over one shoulder and was busy working on it as they moved. Westley carried his sword in his right hand, his long knife in his left, waiting for the first R.O.U.S., but none appeared. The sudden bursts of flame were easily avoided because, just before they struck, there was a deep kind of popping sound clearly coming from the vicinity where the flames would then appear. ![]() The odor of the escaping gases, which at first seemed almost totally punishing, soon diminished through familiarity. The main thing, she realized, was to forget your childhood dreams, for the Fire Swamp was bad, but it wasn’t that bad. ![]() Buttercup stayed just behind, and they made, from the outset, very good time. “Very all four I should think,” the Prince replied… “He must be very desperate, or very frightened, or very stupid, or very brave.” “We’ll follow as best we can,” the Count said. If they live, I’ll greet them on the other side.” If they die, I have no wish to join them. Praying the answer would be “no,” the Count asked, “Do you think we should follow them?” ![]()
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