MAGIC CITY by Nelson S. Bond
CHAPTER ONE OUT OF THE SWEET, dark emptiness of sleep there was a pressure on her arm and a voice whispering an urgent plea.
“Rise, O Mother! O Mother, rise and come quickly!”
Meg woke with a start. The little sleep-imp in her brain stirred fretfully, resentful of being thus rudely banished. He made one last effort to hold Meg captive, tossing a mist of slumber-dust into her eyes, but Meg shook her head resolutely. The sleep-imp, sulky, forced her lips open in a great gape, climbed from her mouth, and sped away.
Sullen shadows lingered in the corners of the hoam, but the windows were gray-limned with approaching dawn. Meg glanced at the cot beside her own, where Daiv, her mate, lay in undisturbed rest. His tawny mane was tousled, and on his lips hovered the memory of a smile. His face was curiously, endearingly boyish, but the bronzed arms and shoulders that lay exposed were the arms and shoulders of a fighting man.
“Quickly, O Mother—”
. . .
