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Chapter 55: The Prince of Mud
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Chapter 57: The Smell of Victory (and Strawberries)
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... d roots, slapped faces with wet ferns, and hummed with the constant threat of things that bit, stung, or ate flesh.
For Lucas Sinclair, it was a green, humid hell.
"Move it, mule," Aria called out from ten yards ahead. She wasn’t even breathing hard. Her boots found purchase on the slick mud with annoying ease, her machete clearing a path for Leo, who was trotting behind her like a happy, mud-splattered spaniel.
"I... can’t..." Lucas wheezed.
The canvas sack on hi ...
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