‘Lovely,’ said Harry. ‘Bear, martens, otters, weasels, fox, wolves - Christ, dormice, if you could wake ’em - but, we simply couldn’t have had this to hand in summer, could we? Oh, no, we had to hold this in sodding winter. “Springtide” be damned, this is a bloody Arctic wilderness. There’s not a bloody adder in miles with whom I can exchange
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