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“The Nox Golgoth thinks I won’t follow it there,” Trista said as she urgently began dressing her wounds. “It thinks it won’t leave a path through the Shift Eldritch a mile wide! It thinks—ARGHGH!”
The veins in Trista’s neck bulged as she wound a long strip of cloth around her stomach. She pulled the knot tight.
“It thinks it can hide Mori forever, that I’ll turn away and start again… well…”
Trista finished the battle dressings. Her stomach was sheathed in a criss-cross of taut wrappings, her limbs shielded by strips of tape and bandages. Her hands became fists.
“It’s got another thing coming,” Trista said.
Ω
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