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... . The sound of wind flew in and out of the small gaps of the carriage’s reinforced wooden structure, almost whistling.
As the carriage rolled to a halt, the knight who sat before me, Firson, descended from the carriage and then offered a hand to me.
I grabbed my small leather bag, then grabbed the knight’s hand as I slowly stepped onto the thin layer of snow.
“Here we are,” the knight said. “Your home village. I remember the day I picked you up here like yesterday.”
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