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“Wait a second!” Ciana’s eyes grew wide open as she gasped, “So the real artifact of our pack is not the Feather of Justice?!”
“Correct,” I confirmed.
Ciana jumped down from a low branch of a cherry tree, in her arms were some freshly picked, luscious, red fruit. She dropped the large heart-shaped cherries on the picnic blanket and sat down next to me.
“I need a moment to process this,” she frowned, digesting the new knowledge as she popped a cherry in her mouth. ...
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