Eat.
Sweet.
Lest you grow reedy.
Umin, his breath locked frightfully away in his breast,
licks tight lips and against all grasping hunger and screaming instinct of self preservation gives a little head shake and a struggling whisper.
"Can’t. Took the oath..."
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A dark, fantastical tale that is intended to unfold a paragraph, or thereabouts, at a time.
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