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I slowly wipe my bloody hand a crossed my jacket and draw my switch blade from my pocket. I show it to him. Mutt regards it with contempt. “How is it you’re thinking you’ll stop e with that wee thing?” The blade snaps out audibly. Mutt would not be the largest thing to die on the slender point of it. “I don’t think I’ll stop you,” I say. “I think that you will cut my horse and then when you come out of that stall, I will use this to cut your heart out and hand it to you.
