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... loor made him feel as if he were crossing a bridge. In his life, he hadn't crossed many bridges, most of them back in Cedarwood.
He remembered one bridge made of stone; stepping on it felt no different from the ground, except for the sound of the river rushing under it, growing louder as one drew nearer. It wasn't a gentle stream, but a roaring torrent.
At that moment, Sam realized that everything in nature had a voice, not just beings with human language.
What it spoke—a ...
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