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... stained silence of the hut was finally broken by the sound of labored breathing and the rustle of straw. For an entire day and night, the interior of the dwelling had been a sanctuary of grief, a dim space where the air was thick with the visceral scent of salt and the rhythmic, guttural sounds of weeping. Nula and Susan had collapsed into each other’s arms, their identities as strong, capable women shattered by the news of their husbands’ demise. Katty, Lara, and the boys had formed a protectiv ...
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