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... ed.
By midday—if the dim, stretched light could still be called that—the settlement had begun to move without deciding to. Not away. Not forward. Sideways, almost. A slow reorientation guided by what each person could carry without breaking.
The woman noticed first that paths were forming.
Not roads—no straight lines, no promises—but repeated choices. A survivor crossed the same stretch of sand twice, then a third time, because it felt possible. A zombie followed, stopped ...
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