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Shrouded The fog, that damn infernal fog Blew in and covered everything in its mantle like some darn blanket woven and stitched by gnarled fingers; the thread flattened and whetted through the teeth of the elder who chewed beetle nut that blackened her mouth, and sleep was no longer robbed. Glamis and Cawdor no longer stood by my bed and par-taked. Morpheus, I need you now. |
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