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... ing like a living thing through the cobblestones.

The music throbbed through the ground, deep and rhythmic, pulsing like a living thing through the cobblestones. The drums echoed in my chest, the lilting flutes wove around me like invisible ribbons.

I tried to retreat to the edge of the square, my skirts brushing against unfamiliar faces, my shoulder bumping into a laughing woman who spun past me.

But the crowd had already tightened, closing in around me like the current ...

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