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“Lynx stood and raced to the camp. “Attend to our injured!” She unsheathed a machete and made for Hare’s killer. Heron grabbed her wrist. “Wait. He’s still conscious.” “Then he will feel my machete,” she replied, voice like ice.” — Gwynn White
Lynx stood and raced to the camp. “Attend to our injured!” She unsheathed a machete and made for Hare’s killer.
Heron grabbed her wrist. “Wait. He’s still conscious.”
“Then he will feel my machete,” she replied, voice like ice.