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‘You go talk to hi arded her ‘Will that help you… relax?’

Then she did hit hi into the side of his head

She’d caught him unprepared, he decided a e of the wall he’d gone through And stood, weaving, the scene around hi wo hi sea, and the three Nachts on a sward nearby, rolling in silent hilarity

He walked doards the sea

Behind hiod’

‘He’s the other way’

He reversed direction ‘Talking to me like I don’t know this island She wants clothes Here, take mine’ He pulled his shirt over his head

And found hih the bleached weave of the cloth, the sun bright and blinding-

– suddenly eclipsed She was speaking ‘… just lie there for a while longer, Withal I wasn’t intending to hit you that hard I fear I’ve cracked your skull’

No, no, it’s hard as an anvil I’ll be fine See, I’ up… oh, why bother It’s nice here in the sun This shirt smells Like the sea Like a beach, with the tide out, and all the dead things rotting in fetid water Just like the Inside Harbour Got to stop the boys fro them… oh, they’re dead All dead now, my boys, my apprentices

You’d better answer me soon, Mael

‘Withal?’