Whitney Reid Drebot

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“Here’s the thing,” he said to one of the urchins, a girl not seven. He settled down on his haunches. “I ain’t travailed enough.” “… Sir?” the girl asked. “In the old stories of quests, you gotta travail. That’s like traveling, but with an ailment stapled on. Headaches and the like; maybe a sore backside too.”
The Bands of Mourning (Mistborn, #6)
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