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... ing to an accompaniment of cheers from the ground below. The breeze carried the sound of hundreds of jubilant voices and the smells of roasting meat and sweet pies. A little girl, no more than five or six, sprinted past us, her face red and her grin growing wider with each step. Right behind her, a one-eyed man—a fresh scar, from the war no doubt—laughed as he gave chase.
A smile tugged at my lips as the Dicathian adventurer scooped the girl off her feet, eliciting a delighted squeal ...
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