The honey on his tongue turned to ashes. Wood, popping her head through the window. ’ He sat up. To walk beside him, dressed akin to him, rucksacked and companionable, was bliss in itself; each step she took was like stepping once more across the threshold of heaven. ‘But on the off chance—slim, I grant you —that there is a spy down there, I don’t want to miss the fun. “Is everything okay?” His mother touched his 251 shoulder gently, standing up.
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