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Then he had nowhere to go, so he went to the bedroom where Silver had put him to convalesce, the room with white walls and heavy furniture where he had first read Tobias the tales he chased like butterflies. Tobias
“You should choose yourself a tree, you know. Plant yourself. Else you’ll get peculiar.” “I am peculiar,” said Bramble.
There was wickedness in the wood before, but now it is gone, and I am glad. You were unhappy, but now you will not be, and I am glad.”
“Go,” she managed. “Grow.”

