The air was sweet with the perfume of flowers, and the melody of murmuring insects, the blue sky was cloudless, the heat of the sun was tempered by the heather-scented west wind. This isn’t the place. Such an obvious ruse, but the boys and girls would defend their pride to the bitter end, the facade of study groups during rutting season. ” Annabel yawned. I have a weapon—a knife—and if you attempt to open the door, will plunge it to my heart.
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