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... ange hours because iron did. Dawn never arrived all at once here. It seeped in like heat across a black anvil, edging and brightening until the world remembered it had outlines. The chimes along the bowl rim did not ring when morning came. They did not have to. Every smith in the hollow could tell the hour by the way smoke rose from a first lit fire and how quickly the white breath of the mist accepted it.
Up on the ridge path a young guard ran. He was a barreled breath and a pair of boo ...
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