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Chapter 4: Wolves in Silk
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Noel sat on the carriage bench, reins slack in his hands. The horses moved at a steady pace, hooves clopping rhythmically over the packed earth. Morning mist clung to the trees on either side, thick and cold, like the fog hadn't quite decided whether to lift.
A basket sat beside him.
Wrapped bread. Sliced meat. Dried fruit. A full canteen of water.
All untouched.
He'd packed it carefully before leaving the scene yesterday. First-class provisions. The kind o ...
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