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... aint, running to her aid.

He picked up the pace when he heard a gunshot. Just one. The last one.

But this time, he was close enough to hear her scream. And it wasn’t a cry for help:

— "Die, you filthy pieces of shit!"

It was the voice of the young elf—the one who was supposed to go get food. Clearly, she’d run into something bad. Bad enough to force her to pull her sidearm. That explained the harsh tone and the rage in her voice.

Dylan slowed down. His spr ...

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