He awoke with a start, the horrifyingly familiar sensation of his throat swelling closed. He was having an allergic reaction. "How?" He wondered, as he quickly got out of bed to retrieve his epi-pen
The wilderness is indifferent To some violent, in its indifference. But when I walk past the rushing river, The creaking trees, The rustling bush. When I listen to the birds sing, The squirrels chitte
Rose Red held the empty vial loosely in one hand, gazing at it, as she held her mug of mead in the other. She could use a refill, but Peter was regaling a new patron about his adventures in Never Neve
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