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... o his scalp.

"No way, right...?" he said aloud, his voice cracking under the weight of disbelief, as if saying it might tether his sanity in place.

Wolves were one thing.

But humans?

Humans were a different kind of story.

A dangerous kind.

"Mister...? Are you alright?" a small voice called out from behind him, soft, hesitant.

Corven turned slowly.

A child. Barely four years old, with wide eyes and messy hair, clutching a tiny stuffe ...

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