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PREVIEW
... ewed it weeks ago after it tried to peck his eye out.
Instead, he woke to silence and the faint scent of boiled herbs, still hanging in the rafters from last night's tincture batch.
His modest cottage creaked gently as the wind pushed against its mossy shingles, and a lone ray of sunlight filtered through the shutter slats, landing across a stack of half-dried chamomile bundles.
Rein blinked at the ceiling.
Quiet.
Too quiet.
He sat up in his straw ...
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