Beth

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Pawn could not look at them. He whispered the words. “I am so sorry.” They said nothing. But they held him, clumsy killers, people with no voices who wore their souls on their chests for all to see. Pawn looked at them and wept. His eyes shed not a tear. They were his. His Soldiers. His guardians. His friends. His people. He embraced them.
Beth
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The Last Light (The Wandering Inn, #5)
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