Olga Yalibat

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Out of the night that covers me, Black as the Pit from pole to pole, I thank whatever gods may be For my unconquerable soul.   In the fell clutch of circumstance I have not winced nor cried aloud. Under the bludgeonings of chance My head is bloody, but unbowed.   Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Rough Ride (Chaos, #4.5)
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