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Chapter 98: Boiling Water, Boiling Ears
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... agging a twig through the dirt. At first, he’d been tracing neat circles, but the cold wind had turned them into wobbly spirals and jagged lines.
He sneezed again for the fifth? Sixth? He’d lost count. His teeth wanted to chatter, but he was too busy sulking.
"How’s it fair," he muttered, "that I get close enough to feel the warmth and then," he mimed a push with the twig, "I have to come sit here in the cold?"
His breath puffed white in the air. The laughter of Mozrael a ...
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