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... ng.
It did not punish them either.
It simply resumed—terrain reasserting texture, resistance, consequence. The sand scraped. The wind cut. Every step required negotiation again, not permission. The pause was over.
Behind them, nothing followed.
No echo. No pull. No regret.
The woman felt it most sharply when the first zombie stumbled and growled—old hunger surfacing like a reflex recalled too quickly. The sound carried farther here, sharper, no longer cush ...
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