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     It was left to the nimble hippocamp to dodge the razor claws and spirit Phoebus aloft and safely out of harms way. “All your smoke and haze went for naught, Malfor. My father, and his brother the Sea, could not in good faith allow such a special vessel as the Ark go unprotected against that tide of devils you command. Or should I say, commanded. Seems your crew lost their bearings and foundered on the frothy waters below.”
     Malfor's yellow eyes burned at the sight of his demons' ship breaking up on the rocks jutting from the coastline. Far off, under the bright light of day, the Ark continued on its destined course.
     Phoebus seized this moment to reclaim the fleece mantle he loaned the 'tramp'. “You'll not need this where you're headed, Malfor.” The hippocamp whisked Phoebus far out across the sea. But not before leaving the demon with one final thought. “Don't despair, Malfor. In time your master, the Devil, will have a whole new flock of lambs to prey upon. Be patient . . . look on the bright side!” 

~ END ~