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Lindsay Buroker

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2010 by Lindsay Buroker

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Amaranthe ran alongside the frozen lake, thighs weary, calves sore, ragged breaths steaming before her. The short sword belted at her waist felt ten times heavier than it was. An inch of fresh snow blanketed the trail, and thick flakes wafted from the steely sky. They stuck in her lashes and melted down her flushed cheeks.

The marker came into view, and she dug a pocket watch free as she passed it. She groaned at the time, shoulders slumping.

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