Book3:WereMyDreamIs
ews. 11 Mr.Fingerrolledintotheroomfromuhecrathedoor,hisbodycoveredincoldsweat.Hehadluckilyoncemoreescapedfromthejawsofdeathandhadnotfallenvictimtothesharpdteethofthergewildcat.Hepulledhimselftogetherandlookedaround.Hewasinasmallroomwithanaltar,onwhichtwoflickering,almostburntoutdlesgaveoffaweaklight.Therewerealsoseveralstatuesofgodsoar.Thergewildcat,angryatbeingdeprivedofitsmealwashowlingindignantlyoutsidethedoorandscratgthewoodendoorwithitssharpafiteatnotbeingabletopousvictimandbiteitwithitsrazor-liketeeth.herwasMr.Fingeroakethingslyingdown.Oncehewasreasonablyassuredofhissafety,hegotupfromthegroundandwalkedtothedoor,kickeditwithhisfeetandagainbeganhistirade, “Youdar,youanimal