Hollo rumbled in his throat. The fire—if there was any in him—never made headway against this insistant demand to know the significance of these manifold inward agitations. She leaned forward in her chair, as if petrified in fear by the scary story. Most of all she enjoyed the gentle gratitude of her foster family members, even the teasing 7 of Mike, her foster brother, who liked to play food critic to give her a hard time. “Yes. Black blood and white bone flew into the corners of the crypt, slathering the dead faces of the corpses left piled in the corner.
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