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... chosen the wrong time to wander into the magical city of Weafewand, another day and perhaps he would have been chosen to become a familiar, he would have been well fed, he would have thrived and lived the best possible life for a mutt like himself.
Alas, he instead found himself in an alley, sandwiched in between the worst possible people within a radius of a width that can not be simply measured.
The Death Dealer tilted her head to the side a slight bit, her dark brown hair foll ...
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