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... a personal scrapbook. His warhammer was slung over his back, Grumble curled around one of his boots like a moody shadow, and Steve had somehow curled himself into a perfect spiral and was pretending to sleep—but Darin could see the tail twitching.
He wasn’t fooling anyone.
Vincent adjusted his cloak, blinking blearily. "Alright. So. Operation Cluckstorm?"
"We are not calling it that," Alvin growled from behind a scarf and a mountain of rolled maps.
"No, but come ...
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