“A … shadow.” “Yes, a starvin’ shadow, all right?” She had to squeeze through the next tunnel too. Stupid, stupid, stupid. “This tower, it’s like a big ol’ corpse. And I’m like blood, sneaking around through its veins.” “Why would a corpse have blood in its veins?” “Fine. It’s not dead. It’s sleepin’ and we are its stormin’ blood. All right?” “I should think,” Wyndle said, “these air vents are much more like intestines. So the allegory would make you more akin to … um … well, feces I guess.” “Wyndle?” she said, pulling through. “Yes, mistress?” “Maybe stop tryin’ to help with my deevy
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