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... d at the sky like they wanted to rip open the clouds. I moved quietly through the underbrush, one foot after another, following the brittle trail inked onto the old map the merchant had given me. It was wrinkled, yellowed by time, but still legible enough to guide me toward whatever came next. A small sack of rations hung from my shoulder—just enough to last me a few days if I was careful, if I didn't let hunger win too early.

The forest was quiet, save for the occasional rustle of unsee ...

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