PREVIEW
... . Sometimes the smell was right in Jane’s face, but mostly, it was on the wind. The smell had been omnipresent for the last few weeks. It didn’t really bother Jane anymore; at least she could get away from the scent at night.
But this was not night; and thus Jane’s nose was filled with rotten eggs, and the smell of fire. With the sun probably somewhere in the thick, black clouds overhead, Jane tensed against a black boulder on the slope of a mountain, somewhere in the chain of volcanoes ...
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