A prayer

 "Bury the sarcasm," said Kaleem. A great big divide warned, a cautionary sign built on the essence of those left in torment. Cora intercepted many enemies. Patrol through the hallowed cave turned lines of cells was gently mild. A putrid odor rose at times. They caught whiffs; Yuria's handsome face would crinkle, her nerves blotted, and her breaths minimum. "-Our mage's unable to breathe?" added Cora maliciously.

 "Ha-ha," she returned a dead expression, "-I'm laughing."

 "Enough fooling around," gritted Kaleem, "-look ahead," a concealment spell hid their presence. 'Weird,' thought Cora with a rifle at the ready, '-if they were taken captive, where are the ring-leaders. The monsters have been easy. Suppose our gap in strength is to be considered.'

 "Don't be smug," said Yuria, her tone had a chilling effect.

 "Mind read again?"

 "No, it's experience."

 'I guess she did have an affinity for observation.'