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December 13, 2012
ELSEWHILE, in Shady Acres, a gathering of sensitives. They huddle in moonshadow, which sways. Cavender Pete is the first to speak, and he does so with gathering conviction, warming to the deadly proposal.

“We have to do it. There’s no other way. You all saw; you all heard; you all felt the mustard breath, coiling. It has to be tonight. Or tomorrow, by dawn.”

They looked at him, the six. They looked away. They looked within.

One spoke: Teppigil the Younger.

“I’m in. We’ll do what needs be done. You have my sword.”

A nod. Other eyes? You? You?

You?