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EPILOGUE
Slither
Dedication
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TWO
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FOUR
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SEVEN
EIGHT
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THIRTEEN
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TWO
TWO
The gong jolts me
awake. Bounding out of a bed of dry, crackly leaves, I scramble for last minute artifacts to fill a partially packed, moth-eaten bag. I pick up a lopsided candle, a small bit of frayed rope, and an ivory comb I stole from Adom several years back. I also pack...
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