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... the blowing wind, peering into the snow-like accumulation for his target. His wild thatch of white hair was tangled with sticks and leaves, but he hadn't put mind to his appearance in weeks. Illusions, after all, covered many things and he'd had more important things to worry about. Now he clutched at the enchanted rock in his fist, praying to the Twins that its gale inscription not fail. It held, for now.
Twin's praise for small blessings.
Around him was a forest of giant, oozin ...
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