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Fear gripped Wolfwood’s heart when he saw Vash silhouetted against the dying light: a shambling, semi-divine smoking gun brought low from the heavens. And then Vash stumbled on a rock and went down in an ungainly flutter of wings, and Wolfwood relaxed. Same old idiot.
Bookmarked by To_Lay_Amongst_The_Moss
28 May 2025
