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Chapter 88: First Grey Light
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... . Strips of salted wolf jerkies spilled in his mouth. He gulped them whole, barely tasting char, and waited for satisfaction.
Nothing.
The emptiness persisted—a cavernous hole widening behind ribs.
Another pouch. Shelled nuts roasted in charfruit glaze. Gone. A third: smoke-dried fish the catch frog the river, strong enough to make Zephyr gag on good days. But it vanished down the drake gullet. Still the ache writhed in his core like a coal left to burn without air.
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