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Saturday, August 25, 2007

I don't remember much past that

Until we got to the blasted gatehouse, then there's too much to remember. Between Fusel's death and the gatehouse it's just a freeze-frame montage:

Mocz pulling me up, looking shame-faced, and muttering something in Svaltish.

Ginger kicking Fusel's corpse and saying, "Albonian got good death in second, we get bad death, take an hour or two."

Ginger still limping, and me, with Fusel's blood all over me, getting some minor, buried comfort from this.

Bêbe holding my hand, but not able to look at me.

The soldiers behind us, grim but breathing then, as we climb past rotting machinery and broken masonry.

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