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... the wood Romandis had given him.
Small strips lay on the floor, and Max felt himself drawn to this simple task.
How many times did I whittle wood as a kid? Yet now… this feels so different. Like it’s a part of me.
Shaving the staff, Max let the wood almost guide him. It was as if something inside told him where to leave a little more of a bump, while another had him cut deeper, creating a groove.
The entire time, Romandis stood next to him, giving soft instruction ...
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