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... p> The fire crackled softly, its warmth battling the chill of the night wind that whipped through the camp. Canvas tents flapped noisily in the breeze. Clementine, wrapped in her wool cloak, sat huddled near the flames. She had finished her bread and gruel and lingered by the fire. For some reason, while the guards had tied her hands again, they hadn’t escorted her back to the holding place. She couldn’t care less; this was far more comfortable, even out in the open.

The holding place la ...

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