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Chapter 489: Running Hounds (2)
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... between my toes.
When the waves hit the sandbank and break, my slender wrists flail.
The waves wash away the little sand I hold in my hand.
I cry and hold on, but I get nothing back.
Not the waves. Not the sand. Not even my tears.
I ask through my stitched mouth.
-God. Can't you hold them tighter?
-Isn't it possible to save even just a handful more from those cruel waves?
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