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72. I SPIT ON YOUR GRAVE PART III

 Brum was just starting to climb up but he wasn’t as wild as the king, he wasn’t as feral and rouge as the king. Brum still cared if he lived after a fall but seemed all the king wanted and thought of was getting where he wanted no matter what.

The wind got harsher as the mountain got steeper and whiter. My bare feet were turning black, the cold deep to my body. I dug, taking up as much as I could from Conri but the temperatures were unbelievable at such altitudes. The wind got more aggressive I thought it would tear my skin, seeing it black with blood ready to sip out. My eyes were closed, saying a thousand prayers to the moon goddess to protect us.

                                                 

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