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... er hand slammed flat against the rock, trying to ground herself. The stone was warm. Wrong. She looked down and saw the mark—a faint, ugly shadow burned into the surface where her palm had been, edges still radiating heat.
Her cut bled fresh, slow and thick.
She looked left. Cutie’s face was close, too close, his breathing rougher for a few seconds before evening out again. He hadn’t woken, but his body was tense now, like something in his sleep was telling him to be careful.
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