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... too quiet.

Not the kind of quiet that came with peace, or even caution. This was the kind that settled after something had gone wrong, when everything living had learned—quickly and brutally—that drawing attention was the fastest way to die.

I leaned against the rough bark of a dead tree, one boot braced on its roots, eyes half-lidded, listening.

No birds.

No scurrying animals.

No distant movement.

No careless footsteps from the idiots I had dragg ...

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