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Chapter 34: Into the Crimson Verge (3)
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... hade; it was a place where heat talked less. I hung from a chain whose links weighed more than my bad ideas, hand-over-handed to a support rib, then to a bolt, then through a seam that let me slip to the far side of the river without boiling.
The rim was close. So was the storm—ash ribboning in pretty curtains that would sand a face off if you stayed there to admire them.
I ran. Not fast. I didn’t have fast anymore. I had quiet and stubborn and the ugly little laugh I make when t ...
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