Then she was out of the door and running, fast. They smelled good, but they no longer smelled like food. And so gentle as the poor creature is, when she's not in her wild fits—it would melt a heart of stone to see her. She pointed across the road. Bodies were piled high in the streets, Sebastian went on rounds and would come back late at night, reporting horrors and robberies, death that came within hours, not days. She made herself a private declaration of liberty.
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