He gave an order, the proa was floated and the sail run up. The boy was right. He forced her arm back, away, stretching it out to keep the weapon at bay. ‘He can’t be Valade, that’s certain,’ mused Gerald, unheeding. She would take the items with her; bury the items and her bloodstained clothes in one of the many sinkholes in the huge landfill/garbage dump on the south side of town. I trust that she will not misunderstand me.
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This video was uploaded to damaulifm.org on 03-07-2024 04:53:29
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