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... , Whitehill was already snowed in. Thick drifts of dry powder cut off the mountain passes, leaving no way out of the Aspen River Valley - save for a single waystone, at the foot of Bald Peak.

Liv’s days and nights slipped into routine. The excitement of the eruption was behind the town now, leaving a few scars, such as the one on Master Grenfell’s scalp. It had left Baron Henry crippled, of course, and he rarely left his room, preferring to spend his days with a bottle of brandy. The far ...

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