Then the dagger’s point came in a whirling arc towards his face. She could still smell the now familiar scent of him on the girl's body in the makeshift grave. She had removed her hat and utterly disarranged her already unruly black locks by running agitated fingers through them. The hard work will be his, until we yank this young fellow back from the brink. Panic leapt into his eyes as he brought his wrist up just in time to parry the blade. . 6.
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