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... slamming it down to scatter a spray of leaves. She vaulted over roots and hurdled fallen logs, barely slowing, her laughter echoing through the trees like a battle cry. Adrenaline thundered through her veins — this was her kind of chaos.

She and Atia crashed through the underbrush on purpose, making a racket loud enough to wake the Ancients. Leaves snapped, branches whipped past their faces, and still, they ran, never letting the eagles fall too far behind. They stayed just ahead, hidden ...

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