“Is this true, Annabel? Is he dead?” She nodded. Anna took up the pen, and signed, after a moment’s hesitation, A. His eyebrows arched, knotting in the middle. But his life, ruled by chance and the fight to survive had appealed strongly to Melusine’s rebellious spirit. She could still smell the now familiar scent of him on the girl's body in the makeshift grave.
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