” She laid her hand softly upon his. ‘She is constantly thinking of you,’ I said. It began to rain, a cold sweat of precipitation that was more sickly than refreshing. But his treasured dream lay shattered at his feet. The sword, Jacques. She could still smell the now familiar scent of him on the girl's body in the makeshift grave. ” He awoke. With your permission, I will go on in my own way.
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