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... orr knelt before it in the pre-dawn gray, his chitinous fingers tracing the carved numerals. Seventeen seasons. His daughter had lived seventeen seasons before the infection took her. The same infection that had killed thousands in the coastal settlements when the last World Cats were hunted to extinction.
She had wanted to be a healer. Had spent her days learning which plants could ease suffering, which compounds could slow infection. In the end, none of it mattered. The fever came from ...
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