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... st-touched grass. His tongue flicked out, catching the faint coppery tang of blood on the cold wind.

The trail had been easy to follow at first, with crushed undergrowth and faint, unnatural disturbances in the air that only his sharp senses could detect. But as the hours wore on, the path grew colder, the figure moving with an eerie precision that left barely a trace behind. Yet, the serpent was determined. His coiled patience kept him moving, silent and watchful.

The hooded fig ...

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