Somehow Olandon and I land Avalanche in our tent. Sin was the first volunteer, but Jovan quickly vetoed that. I was glad at the time. Who knows where Sin’s hands would roam, and where my brother’s knife would end up, or what appendage Sin would lose—possibly his favorite. Then we got Avalanche instead. He doesn’t even fit in the tent; he just lies in the middle with our jackets wrapped tightly around his overhanging legs. “If I die because our tent flap is open for the giant, I won’t be happy,” Olandon says. “No,” grunts Avalanche. “You’ll be dead.” I giggle sleepily and lift my hand for a
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