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... he upper treehouse chamber, his back pressed against the smooth bark wall, one hand resting on the wooden staff he’d carved long ago, more as a tool for hiking than fighting, but it had since become something of a companion. Through the narrow slit he watched the jungle canopy, the shadows between the trees never quite still, and the occasional flicker of something moving just outside his field of vision. The others had fallen asleep, most out of sheer exhaustion. A few, like Grace and Scarlett, ...
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