As she started, rearing up her head, a hand stole about her mouth and closed down hard. It’s odd how little I know of him, and of how he feels and what he feels. Their soft, voluptuous bodies wove among each other to the faint notes of a lyre. The winters were bitter here, they could have just as easily been frozen off. He stopped short of a group of adolescent saplings and turned the ignition off.
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