Scott  Melton

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The gift, the creature saw at last, was a true one. Nothing else could explain what it discovered in the mortal man’s face. A mirrored spirit, in every detail. This was an opportunity that could not be refused. Still the wolf hesitated. Until an ancient memory rose before its mind’s eye. An image, frozen, faded with the erosion of time. Sufficient to close the spiral. And then it was done.
Memories of Ice (Malazan Book of the Fallen, #3)
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