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... t the perimeter of the Shooting Star camp, her gaze fixed on the black line of trees that marked the forest’s edge. The darkness beyond its mouth swirled with the promise of something unseen, and the air had shifted again.
She didn’t like it.
Even more now that, somehow, she became able to discern the shifting, glowing lights of the words carved into the Stories that composed that forsaken place.
Because it wasn’t a simple Story, comprised of cohesive words that made sens ...
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