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... g that slow, elegant dance that only smoke knows how to do. I crept forward, silent and cautious. Dry leaves crunched under my feet, and I kept low, alert — if this was a trap, now was the perfect time to turn me into barbecue.
I stepped into a small clearing. There was a makeshift campfire, built from twigs and... thin bones? Yep. Lovely.
But my attention wandered to what was on the other side of the fire: an old, crooked cart, painted in faded reds, golds, and purples. On top o ...
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