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... fvarum Oonbetit,” to cut the ropes on his hands free, but in the dark, every sound seemed to carry, and stealth was, ironically, impossible. As loud as whispering had seemed, though, moving was worse. As he tentatively stood, the debris he was on top of skidded and clattered down a slope of other disgusting refuse, and he stumbled as he almost lost his footing.

For a moment, whatever was in here with him froze at the sound of his tumble, and then it began stomping toward him with increas ...

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