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... ame oppressive, humid but somehow dry, like breathing through cloth. They stopped briefly to drink and rest under a crooked tree near an ancient, stone-lined well. Jude stared into it while Zoey and Lucy passed out rations, dry root slices, preserved fruits, smoked bird meat. The water at the bottom of the well glowed faintly blue, pulsing in slow rhythm.
"It’s the same frequency as the mountain," Jude murmured, not expecting anyone to answer.
"I don’t like this place," Emma said ...
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