Looking over his shoulder, he bared his fangs at me in what I assume was the monster version of a scowl. “I’m not that old.” I mean, he didn’t look old, but it was kind of impossible to judge his age by human standards. “How old are you?” He huffed. “Only around five and a half thousand or so.” My breath caught in my throat, making me choke. I coughed, spluttering. “You’re what?” “It’s not that old,” Edin shot back immediately, tone defensive. “I’m nowhere near as old as Wyn. He’s over twelve thousand. That’s old.” He chuckled. But I’d frozen, instinctive tension making my limbs seize up.
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