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... /p>

The wings were wrong for that conclusion—too large, too rigid—but his brain reached for the familiar anyway, desperate for something that made sense.

That illusion died the moment the man turned his head just enough for Don to catch the face in full.

And before he could finish registering it, something else pulled his attention away.

Across the sprout’s remaining vines, cuts appeared.

Not impacts. Not explosions.

Lines.

They formed all at on ...

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