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  • American&Israeli-AuthorApril 06, 1975
  • American&Israeli-Author
  • April 06, 1975
And feast on the dead, I thought with a shudder. As if he could read my thoughts, he pressed a hand to my shoulder. His fingers were long and white, splaying over my arm like a waxen spider. If the gesture was meant to comfort me, it failed.
Leigh Bardugo

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