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... at the tunnel mouth.
Not gorrak. Smaller. Clawed. Tensed like they're ready to bolt, but not bolting. Yet.
They don't speak. Just stand there. Watching the fire. Watching me.
Behind me, the flames flicker low in the bone-and-shard ring. Warm enough to hold the room, not enough to burn anything solid. It shouldn't feel like power, but it does. Because they haven't seen it before. Or maybe because I'm sitting beside it, and they think that means something.
The kid d ...
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