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... under his cloak, his face a little dusty, hair absolutely unkempt.

He didn’t actually think he would survive but he did. Praise the Moon.

The wind howled behind Rory. He rode faster and faster.

His horse thundered across the rough terrain, hooves hammering into the ground with reckless urgency. Dust clouds kicked up in their wake, spiraling into the air before settling into silence again.

Rory’s mind was singularly focused.However his horse looked worn out. He ur ...

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