She heard his voice screaming her name into the twilight as she fled, his cries trailing like banners, weaving through the breeze that had begun to gently stir the dew on the ground. He must be gone to dispose of the body. The blow was scarcely dealt, when, with a bound like that of a tiger, Blueskin sprang upon him. But I am always afraid that he may get in while I am away.
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