He smiled. I’m a hard young woman. You must forgive the poet’s license I take. He grabbed her wrist and prised the weapon from her fingers, ignoring her other hand that clawed at his to try to retain the trophy. They had shared almost seventy five wonderful years there in nearly utter seclusion before it came time to move on. Wait, though. This made the eleventh. "Well?" he said, as Spurlock reached his side. .
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