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Chapter 6: Two On A Thread
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Chapter 8: Not A Corpse
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... ons about leaving. The tunnel leans upward as if it finally remembered the sky is a place.
Hollow takes point, a faint rattle of bone that manages to be quieter than my breath. Marrow moves like a thesis on manners at my knee. The leash is tight enough to hum and loose enough to let me breathe.
We hit trouble in the sort of place trouble likes: a narrowing, then a bulge of rock, then a pocket where shadows pretend to be furniture. Hollow veers and clacks once, the bird’s version ...
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