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... on't want to go any deeper down these narrow streets, Betsy gets claustrophobic," the coachman relayed, petting the horsaroach.
One eye shrunk in revulsion, "Well, can't make Betsy feel uncomfortable now, can we?"
Jotou departed with the carriage. The noon Sun shone over the hooded figure who walked alone down Old-Town—her brown eyes in a swivel.
The gaze of people followed the wanderer as the streets grew narrower and large drain systems were on both sides; smaller build ...
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