Cut to pieces —slashed—bloodied. “You shall go,” he declared. Everything was fresh and bright, from the kindly manners of the Frutigen cobbler, who hammered mountain nails into her boots, to the unfamiliar wild flowers that spangled the wayside. Brown was no fool, and he understood the sudden onus of the other children to share the limelight. Sheppard, and neither deserve nor desire your thanks.
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