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... the bond formed. At dawn, they’d be gone, or quietly folded back into the forest.
Jude drifted into sleep, hearing voices: "We remember." And the island breathing, solid, endless, welcoming.
They had stepped into the heart. The heart had welcomed. Stone, wood, blood, memory: a seed and a shell become linked. As long as they named themselves, as long as they loved, the island would dream of them, and they would dream the island.
Mist hung over the camp when Jude woke, daw ...
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