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... hes held no smell of long-standing mildew—only a faint scent of medicinal herbs intermingled with a touch of bitterness.
They were a bit tight, the hemline reaching only to the knees, but they could fend off the cold nonetheless.
Anton Cook felt the coarse fabric—it was somewhat stiff and cool, like the inexplicable wind in these mountains.
Against his body, cold and hot, ice and fire, a feeling as intense as if it could destroy everything in its path, swept over him. ...
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