Steven Childress

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She was no older than Tom, and she was hideous. A terrible scar ran down her face from forehead to jaw, making it look like a portrait that had been furiously crossed out. Her mouth was wrenched sideways in a permanent sneer, her nose was a smashed stump, and her single eye stared at him out of the wreckage, as gray and chill as a winter sea.
Mortal Engines (The Hungry City Chronicles, #1)
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