[The sharp chill of snow bites into his skin, wind whistles in his ears, drowning out the screaming...
...no, it's not the wind, it's the rumbling of a city collapsing, and the air is warm as the world rushes by. Or the air is still, although just as cold. The ground beneath his feet is torn up pavement, rocky terrain, rotting floorboards. And no,
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Comments 16
Hmm. Maybe he should say something. ]
It isn't real, you know.
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...a disembodied voice from a dog. Wolf. Doesn't matter.
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