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I ae Astor’s outburst coe, perhaps 8 or 9, would have, but the thoughtful look on his face that follows makes him seem somewhat more perceptive, more mature

“Sorry,” he says bashfully, receiving a nod from Mavyn

“It is still bizarre to me,” she continues, “to for centuries have the same son possessed by the same childish sensitivities My sisters had children beforeand adorable forever I wonder if they would say so now This ine”

“Maybe at first,” I reply, “but strangeness is all there is to knon here”

“Yes, this land is quite a dreadful place, isn’t it? A graveyard where everyone is trying to dig someone else’s burial plot”

She looks down at her desk, perusing several papers, each see her a twitch of pain I wonder if they aren’t correspondences of soers are hiding Wade toldtaken ontheir services in treachery like Severin

Here in the dark, living a life of solitude with her son, she reat frequency, about the ti hunted down like wild animals When some of them hadn’t turned into animals themselves

“How do you survive?” I ask pointedly

The question catches her in a stupor of thought, prohs a smile

“Well, it’s not a luxurious life, but Astor is able to get e need withoutis like that of a fox”