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... with the broken stubs of horns pared down. I had imagined him, gone to fat and flab, no longer even able to fit into his armor. I had even imagined him older, just beginning to wither but still strong and fit.
I hadn’t imagined him physically much the same, perhaps some new scars, or ones which memory had forgotten. He did pace back and forth, but like a caged animal rather than a triumphant warrior. His palms were together on his forehead, gradually spreading to let his fingers tease a ...
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