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She’d spoken of their happiness as though it were an undeniable fact, no matter what happened–apart from everything else and not subject to it. It was a new idea for him, that happiness wasn’t a mystical place to be reached or won–some bright terrain beyond the boundary of misery, a paradise waiting for them to find it–but something to carry doggedly with you through everything, as humble and ordinary as your gear and supplies. Food, weapons, happiness.With hope that the weapons could in time vanish from the picture.
