Chris

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Precious Thimble’s hands tightened on the wounds, but now there were only scars beneath her palms, and she could feel Faint’s pulse. But…gods, it’s there – I can feel it. It’s…faint. A sudden giggle escaped her – but that was just relief. She’d always hated puns.
The Crippled God (Malazan Book of the Fallen, #10)
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