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... once more. The cool draft of the evening air seeped through the wooden cracks, brushing against his bloodied face like a whisper of judgment.
He was preparing to hunt.
To test the limits of his cursed body.
To understand the hunger that now clawed at the edges of his sanity.
"To hunt...?" The mother’s voice cracked from behind him, still seated on the floor, her back resting against the wall like a collapsed statue.
"Where are you going...?" she asked aga ...
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