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... mly against my sealed-shut lips, and glared balefully at my betrayer. She-who-was-not-Needle, the lowest of the low, stared back. I could see it in her eyes; she knew what she had done. She knew that she had earned my ire.

As well she should.

I pulled against my bindings again, trying to pull apart the sticky threads that sealed my mouth shut. They held firm, just as they had ever since they had been wound around my snout. I huffed irritably, fighting against the incandescent rag ...

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