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Up Bowen Mountain

A bone-jarring thud woke me early, even before the sun had risen over the edge of the horizon. Deakin crouched next to me, his eyes dark and watching my face intently, a curious glint hidden behind them.

I rubbed my eyes, clearing the blur that muddled my view on everything. In the bleak light his face seemed distorted and fuzzy as I tried to focus on the situation.

His eyes flicked away from me towards the town, narrowing slightly as he scanned the surrounding area. His face was tense, his mouth set in a hard line.

“Get up,” he growled at me. “Now!”

He shoved at me carelessly, pushing my aching body onto the cold, hard ground. Red colour blinded my eyes as my head hit the dirt with an awful crack. It was all too much for my half-asleep mind. I lay in the dirt trying to reorientate myself and remember what exactly was going on.

Rough hands dragged me up and threw me up onto the horse. I was disoriented. What the hell was going on? Where was I?

Deakin hurried, packing up the smal
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