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... t him. A low, restless wind curled around their feet — barely more than a whisper, but enough to graze their skin like an early warning.
“…Hey, buddy,” Rosa said. “What kind of ‘something’ are we talking about here?”
Fynn turned his head. Not sharply. But not exactly slowly either. Just…intent. Deliberate. His bright yellow eyes settled on her.
But he said nothing.
After a few seconds, he turned away, and the wind shifted. Sharper now. More focused. It threaded be ...
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