About the book: Soul Eater book. Author: Michelle Paver. Publisher: Orion Childrens; New Ed edition. Publish date: 7 Jun. ISBN Download as PDF, TXT or read online from Scribd Soul Eater (Chronicles of Ancient Darkness #3) Michelle Paver ONE Torak didn't want it to be an omen. soul eater michelle paver pdf. Soul Eater (Chronicles of Ancient Darkness Series #3) by Michelle Paver in EPUB, FB2, TXT download e-book. Welcome to our.
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If it had been the dusky gray of a Forest owl, he wouldn't have worried; he'd simply have given it to Renn, who used them to fletch her arrows. But this feather was barred with black and tawny; shadow and flame.
That told Torak it belonged to the greatest, the fiercest of owls: the eagle owl. And to find one of those--that was bad. Wolf's black nose twitched. Torak was instantly alert. Through the trees, he glimpsed the reindeer, nibbling beard-moss.
He heard the crunch of its hooves, saw its misting breath. Good, they were still downwind. He forgot the feather, and thought of juicy meat and rich marrowfat. Behind him, the faint creak of Renn's bow.
He fitted an arrow to his own, then realized he was blocking her12view, and dropped to one knee, since she was the better shot. The reindeer moved behind a beech tree. They'd have to wait. As Torak waited, he noticed a spruce, five paces below him. The way it spread its snow-laden arms Gripping his bow, he fixed his gaze on the prey.
A gust of wind stirred the beeches around him, and last summer's leaves rustled like dry, dead hands. He swallowed. It felt as if the Forest were trying to tell him something. Overhead a branch shifted, and a flurry of snow hissed down. He glanced up. His heart jerked. An eagle owl. Tufted ears as sharp as spearpoints.
Huge orange eyes like twin suns. With a cry he leaped to his feet. The reindeer fled. Wolf raced off in pursuit. Renn's arrow sped past Torak's hood. The eagle owl spread its enormous wings and silently flew away. I might have killed you!
He was watching the eagle owl soar into the fierce blue of the noonday sky. But eagle owls, he thought, hunt by night. Wolf came bounding through the trees and skittered13to a halt beside him, shaking off snow and lashing his tail. He hadn't expected to catch the reindeer, but he'd enjoyed the chase. Sensing Torak's unease, he rubbed against him. Torak knelt, burying his face in the deep, coarse scruff; breathing in Wolf's familiar sweet-grass scent. Torak raised his head.
The eagle owl--it was so close I could have touched it! Wolf flattened his ears and growled.
Renn put her hand to her clancreature feathers. We should get back. Fin-Kedinn will know what to do. And Torak"--she eyed the feather--"leave it here. A fine gray powder dusted his palm. He wiped it off on his parka, but his skin carried a whiff of rottenness that reminded him of the Raven bone-grounds.
Suddenly Wolf gave a grunt, and pricked his ears. She didn't speak14wolf talk, but she knew Wolf. Torak frowned. Strange prey, Wolf told him, and he realized that Wolf was puzzled too.
An overwhelming sense of danger swept over Torak. He gave an urgent warning bark. Stay away! But Wolf was off, racing up the valley in his tireless lope.
With growing alarm, he watched Wolf crest the ridge and glance back at them. He looked magnificent: his thick winter pelt a rich blend of gray and black and foxy red, his bushy tail taut with the thrill of the hunt. Follow me, pack-brother! Strange prey! Then he was gone.
They followed as fast as they could, but they were burdened with packs and sleeping-sacks, and the snow was deep, so they had to use their wicker snowshoes, which slowed them even more. When they reached the top, Wolf was nowhere to be seen. She pointed to a thicket of aspen. Only yesterday Wolf had hidden behind a juniper bush, then leaped out and knocked him into a snowdrift, growling and play-biting till Torak was helpless with laughter.
They reached the aspens. Wolf didn't pounce. Torak uttered two short barks. Where are you? No answer. His tracks were plain enough, though. Several clans hunted here, and all used dogs, but there was no mistaking Wolf's tracks for a dog's. A dog runs haphazardly, because he knows his master will feed him, whereas a wolf runs with a purpose: he must find prey, or starve. And although Wolf had been with Torak and the Raven Clan for the past seven moons, Torak had never given him food, for fear of blunting his hunting skills.
The afternoon wore on, and still they followed his trail: a straight-line lope, in which the hindpaws trod in the prints of the forepaws. The crunch of their snowshoes and the rasp of their breath echoed through the Forest. They were about a daywalk from the Raven camp, which lay to the southwest, by the Widewater river. Again Torak barked. Snow drifted from a tree, pattering onto his hood. As he watched the gleam die on a cluster of holly berries, he sensed that the day was on the turn.
Already the brightness was fading from the sky, and shadows were stealing out from under the trees. A chill crept into his heart, because he knew that the descent into darkness had begun. The clans call this the demon time, because it's in winter, when the great bull Auroch rears high among the stars, that demons escape from the Otherworld, and flit through the Forest, to cause havoc and despair.
It only takes one to taint a whole valley; and although the Mages keep watch, they can't trap them all.
Demons are hard to see. You never catch more than a glimpse, and you can't be sure what they look like, because they change, the better to slip into sleeping mouths and possess living bodies. There they crouch in the red darkness, sucking out courage and trust, leaving the seeds of malice and strife.
It was at this moment, at the demon time, that Torak knew the omens had come true. Wolf hadn't howled a reply because he could not. Because something had happened to him. Nightmare visions flashed through Torak's mind. What if Wolf had tried to bring down an auroch or an elk on his own?
He was only twenty moons old. A flying hoof can kill a foolhardy young wolf. Torak had' taught him to avoid them, but what if he'd been careless? He'd be trapped. Unable to howl as the noose tightened round his neck. The trees creaked. More snow pattered down. Torak put his hands to his lips and howled. No reply. Renn gave him a worried smile; but in her dark eyes he saw his own anxiety. There'll be enough light to track.
They'd gone another few paces when she turned aside. Over here! They'd dug a pit, and hidden it with a flimsy screen of snowcovered branches. That wouldn't have held him for long, but in the churned-up snow around the pit, Torak found shreds of braided rawhide.
I'm going to wake up, and Wolf is going to come loping through the trees. A shocking red spatter in the snow. I hope he bit their hands off! His fingers shook. He forced himself to read the snow.
Wolf had approached the pitfall warily, his tracks changing from a straight-line lope to a walk, in which front and hind prints showed side by side. But he'd approached just the same. Oh Wolf, said Torak silently. Why weren't you more careful? Then it struck him that maybe it was his friendship with Wolf that had made him more trusting of people. Maybe this was his fault. He stared at the trampled trail that led north. Ice was forming in the tracks. Wolf's captors had a head start.
The bigger man's prints are deeper when he ran off. But why take him at all? No one would hurt Wolf. No one would dare. But I can't make out--" "Don't move! His father had taught him tracking, and he thought he knew every print of every creature in the Forest; but these were the strangest he'd ever seen.
Very light and small, like a bird's--but not. The hind tracks resembled tiny, crooked, five-clawed hands, but there were no front prints, only two pockmarks: as if the creature had been walking on stumps. Renn met his eyes.
They used it as bait. Where could they go from there? They could've turned east for Lake Axehead, and kept going all the way to the High Mountains. Or doubled back south, for the Deep Forest. Or west, they could be halfway to the Sea by now"Voices, coming their way. They ducked behind the junipers. Renn readied her bow, and Torak drew his black basalt axe from his belt. Whoever it was, they were making no attempt at20stealth.
Torak saw a man and woman, followed by a large dog dragging a sled on which lolled a dead roe buck. A boy of about eight summers plunged eagerly ahead, and with him a younger dog with a deerhide saddlepack strapped to his belly.
The young dog caught Wolf's scent on Torak, gave a terrified yelp, and sped, back to the boy, who halted. Torak saw the clan-tattoo between his eyebrows: three slender black ovals, like a permanent frown. Renn breathed out.
Maybe they saw something! Of course we can! They saw her and broke into smiles. They were returning to their clan in the west, the woman explained. Her face was scarred, like birch canker, marking her as a survivor of last summer's sickness. Torak stood up. Did you see anyone? And we have the Leader's leave--""Did you see anyone?
Then I saw them. They had a net; it was struggling. He'd been clenching his fists so hard that his nails were digging into his palms. The boy stretched his arm above his head. And another, big, with bowed legs. The Leader of the Ravens is wise; he'll know what to do. Tell him we're going to get him back. It was past middlenight, and Torak was dizzy with tiredness.
He forced himself to keep going. The trail of Wolf's captors lay like a snake in the moonlight. North, always north.
With heart-stopping suddenness, seven Mages loomed before him. Lean, horned shadows cut across his path. We will rule the Forest, they whispered in voices colder than windblown snow.
All tremble before us. We are the Soul-Eaters A hand touched his shoulder. He cried out.
Michelle Paver - Chronicles of Ancient Darkness - 3 - Soul Eater
He blinked. Before him, seven birch trees glittered with frost. She gave a disbelieving snort. They trudged on, their breath smoking in the freezing air. Torak wondered if the dream meant something. Could it be--was it possible that the Soul-Eaters were behind Wolf's disappearance? But what would they want with Wolf? Besides, no trace of them had been found. Since the sickness last summer, Fin-Kedinn had spoken to every clan in the Open Forest, and had sent word to the Deep Forest and the Sea and Mountain clans.
The Soul-Eaters had gone to ground like a bear in winter. And yet--Wolf was still gone. Torak felt as if he were walking in a blizzard of ignorance and fear. Raising his head, he saw the great bull Auroch high in the sky. He felt the malice of its cold red eye, and fought a rising tide of panic. First he'd lost his father. Now Wolf. What if he never saw Wolf again? What if he was already dead? The trees thinned. Before them glimmered a frozen river, crisscrossed with hare tracks.
On its banks, the25dead umbels of hemlock reached spiked fingers toward the stars. A herd of forest horses took fright and clattered off across the ice, then turned to stare.
Their manes stood stiff as icicles, and in their moon-bright eyes Torak glimpsed an echo of his own fear. In his mind he saw Wolf as he'd looked before he vanished: magnificent and proud.
Torak had known him since he was a cub. Most of the time he was simply Wolf: clever, inquisitive, and fiercely loyal. Sometimes he was the guide, with a mysterious certainty in his amber eyes.
Always he was a pack-brother. Maybe they want me, not Wolf. He hated being a spirit walker. And he hated that she'd said it out loud.
It felt like a scab being torn off. Two big strong men, we'd have been no match for them. So why--""I don't know! What good does it do? I just want him back! The forest horses had trampled the trail, and for a while it was lost, which at least gave them an excuse to split up.
When Torak found it again, it had changed. For the worse. We should build a shelter. Get some rest. I'm going on. He's my friend too. A few paces back, one of them turned aside to follow those otter tracks--""What otter tracks? You're exhausted! So am I! But he didn't want to admit it.
In silence they found a storm-toppled spruce, and dug out the snow at its base to make a makeshift sleeping-space. They roofed it with spruce boughs, and used their snowshoes as shovels to pack on a thick layer of snow.
Finally they dragged more boughs inside, and laid their reindeer-hide sleeping-sacks on top. When they'd finished, they were trembling with fatigue. From his tinder pouch Torak took his strike-fire and some shredded birch bark, and woke up a fire.
The only deadwood he'd found was spruce, so it smoked and spat. He was too exhausted to care. Renn wrinkled her nose at the smoke, but didn't remark on it. She took a coil of elk-blood sausage from her pack and cut it in three, then put one piece on the roof of the shelter for the clan guardian, and tossed Torak another.
Tucking her own share in her food pouch, she picked up her axe and waterskin. There's more meat in my pack, but don't touch the dried lingonberries. Then he crawled out of the shelter and made an offering. Cutting a lock of his long, dark hair, he tied it around28a branch of the fallen spruce.
Then he put his hand on his clan-creature skin: the tattered scrap of wolf fur sewn to the shoulder of his parka. I ask by each of my three souls--by my name-soul, my clan-soul, and my world-soul--I ask that you watch over Wolf, and keep him from harm. Renn had made her own offering. That made him feel guilty.
He shouldn't have shouted at her. Back in the shelter, he pulled off his boots, wriggled into his sleeping-sack, and lay watching the fire, smelling the mustiness of reindeer fur and the bitter tang of spruce. Far away, an owl hooted. Not the familiar bvoo-bvoo of a gray Forest owl, but the deep oo-hu, oo-hu, oo-hu of an eagle owl.
Torak shivered. He heard Renn's footsteps crunching through the snow, and called to her. So did I. It's just He heard her crunch toward the shelter--then circle behind it. He sat up. His heart began to pound. It wasn't Renn. As quietly as he could, he wriggled out of his sleeping-sack, pulled on his boots, and reached for his axe.
The footsteps came closer. Whoever it was stood only an arm's length away, separated by a flimsy wall of spruce. For a moment there was silence.
Then--very loud in the stillness--Torak heard wet, bubbling breath. His skin prickled. He thought of the victims of last summer's sickness.
The murderous light in their eyes; the slime catching in their throats He thought of Renn, alone by the river. He crawled toward the mouth of the shelter.
Clouds covered the moon, and the night was black. He caught a whiff of carrion. Heard again that bubbling breath. The breathing stopped. The stillness was absolute. Torak scrambled out of the shelter and stood, clutching his axe with both hands.
Smoke stung his eyes, but for a heartbeat he glimpsed a huge form melting into the shadows. A cry rang out behind him--and he spun around to see Renn staggering through the trees.
I heard it. Whatever it was, it had gone, leaving only a whiff of carrion and a dread memory of bubbling breath. Sleep was now impossible. They fed the fire, then sat up together, waiting for dawn. A coming of age epic fantasy adventure. The Complete Series Dark World. How do you live with yourself when you decide who dies? Find out why readers are calling this series "addicting.
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Fatemarked The Fatemarked Epic Book 1. Share your thoughts with other customers. Write a customer review. Read reviews that mention ancient darkness chronicles of ancient soul eaters torak and renn far north interested in reading wolf brother darkness series great book books in the series evil paver school follow michelle.
There was a problem filtering reviews right now. Please try again later. I always love her books! One person found this helpful. This serie is one of my son's favorite, it's mine too. Michelle Paver is such a gifted writer. It's a great book. I cannot wait for the next one. Soul Eater is the third book in the Chronicles of Ancient Darkness series. Wolf aka pack-brother has been kidnapped and Torak and Renn set out to find him. They follow Wolf's kidnappers to the Far North - without giving spoilers they find that there is a whole lot more going on than they could have imagined.
The narrative is just as enthralling as the first two books in the series; the reader gets a real feel for the kingship between the main characters. The framework, which the author sets, of the cold wastelands of the north only goes on to reinforce the dark nature of the tale that is being told. Very light and small. But I can't make out--" "Don't move!
No one would dare. Maybe they saw something! Torak saw a man and woman. A boy of about eight summers plunged eagerly ahead. Whoever it was. Wolf's captors had a head start. And we have the Leader's leave--""Did you see anyone? He stared at the trampled trail that led north. They used it as bait. Renn readied her bow. Torak stood up. Or west.
Or doubled back south. Her face was scarred. Ice was forming in the tracks. His father had taught him tracking. But why take him at all? No one would hurt Wolf. Of course we can! The young dog caught Wolf's scent on Torak. They could've turned east for Lake Axehead.
Maybe this was his fault. Renn met his eyes. The bigger man's prints are deeper when he ran off. The hind tracks resembled tiny. Did you see anyone? Torak wondered if the dream meant something. A hand touched his shoulder. He forced himself to keep going. They trudged on. The Soul-Eaters had gone to ground like a bear in winter. It felt like a scab. Before them glimmered a frozen river.
In his mind he saw Wolf as he'd looked before he vanished: Sometimes he was the guide. Torak had known him since he was a cub. He'd been clenching his fists so hard that his nails were digging into his palms. And he hated that she'd said it out loud.
Tell him we're going to get him back. Fin-Kedinn had spoken to every clan in the Open Forest. Torak felt as if he were walking in a blizzard of ignorance and fear. Then I saw them. I didn't see their faces. He felt the malice of its cold red eye. The Leader of the Ravens is wise. A herd of forest horses took fright and clattered off across the ice. The boy stretched his arm above his head.
The trail of Wolf's captors lay like a snake in the moonlight. She gave a disbelieving snort. Since the sickness last summer.. First he'd lost his father.
And another. Now Wolf. He cried out. Most of the time he was simply Wolf: With heart-stopping suddenness. Raising his head. We are the Soul-Eaters. We will rule the Forest. He hated being a spirit walker. And yet--Wolf was still gone. It was past middlenight. They had a net. Could it be--was it possible that the Soul-Eaters were behind Wolf's disappearance? But what would they want with Wolf? Before him. On its banks. All tremble before us. He blinked. Their manes stood stiff as icicles.
Always he was a pack-brother. What if he never saw Wolf again? What if he was already dead? The trees thinned. Maybe they want me. Renn wrinkled her nose at the smoke. I just want him back! So why--""I don't know!
For the worse.. He was too exhausted to care. I ask by each of my three souls--by my name-soul. She took a coil of elk-blood sausage from her pack and cut it in three. I'm going on. There's more meat in my pack. Then he put his hand on his clan-creature skin: From his tinder pouch Torak took his strike-fire and some shredded birch bark. Two big strong men. They roofed it with spruce boughs.
It's just. It wasn't. He sat up. So did I. In silence they found a storm-toppled spruce. His heart began to pound. That made him feel guilty.
The forest horses had trampled the trail. You're exhausted! So am I! We should build a shelter. What good does it do? But he didn't want to admit it. He heard Renn's footsteps crunching through the snow. When Torak found it again. He heard her crunch toward the shelter--then circle behind it. Torak shivered. Torak forced himself to eat. Tucking her own share in her food pouch. Cutting a lock of his long. Then he crawled out of the shelter and made an offering.
Get some rest. A few paces back. He shouldn't have shouted at her. He's my friend too. Finally they dragged more boughs inside. Not the familiar bvoo-bvoo of a gray Forest owl. Far away. Renn had made her own offering. Back in the shelter.
When they'd finished. The only deadwood he'd found was spruce. Torak didn't reply. With each step they dreaded seeing a figure lurching toward them. I heard it. Or one of the Hidden People. Suddenly Renn tensed.
The breathing stopped.. The sky was heavy with snow. It didn't make sense. Smoke stung his eyes. His skin prickled. Whoever it was stood only an arm's length away. He thought of Renn. Torak smelled carrion. He gasped. The tracks were nothing like the booted feet of the men who'd captured Wolf.
They had no choice but to follow.. In the lee of a boulder twenty paces above the shore. Sleep was now impossible. He crawled toward the mouth of the shelter. They began their descent into the next valley through a silent birchwood. A creature snuffling. They'd lost someone to keep them from harm. It was very tall. Torak shook his head. They stared at one another. But the otter had never reached the frozen lake at the bottom of the hill. The murderous light in their eyes..
As quietly as he could. A cry rang out behind him--and he spun around to see Renn staggering through the trees. The otter had bounded down the slope. Renn smiled. Torak caught movement on the lake. Clouds covered the moon. The stillness was absolute.
If we'd had Wolf with us. Whatever it was. Heard again that bubbling breath. He caught a whiff of carrion. They fed the fire. Through the trees. Then it turned. Then--very loud in the stillness--Torak heard wet. Torak scrambled out of the shelter and stood. He thought of the victims of last summer's sickness. With Wolf gone. The footsteps came closer. Torak watched the snow drifting across the tracks. Torak found a scattering of fish-scales and a shred of rawhide.
For a moment there was silence. But I know one thing. Whatever he says. She tricked him! The Walker wants it back! His head was twisted back. He'd left his cape on the ice to fool them. Twisted legs and flying thoughts. What if he saw something? The Walker pressed his knife against Torak's windpipe. Deftly the old man caught the stone. The tail. And he'll do it. The old man turned on her. Crudest of the cruel. They'd been lucky to escape with their lives.
And Renn. That he threw my quiver in the stream. In the snow. Torak knew it. Loops of green slime swung like creepers from his shattered nose and his rotten. Neither of them moved. The old man's foot was a blackened. Out on the ice. This stinking. The old man swung around.
There he crouched. That meant the occupant was at home. It bit his toes. An owl probably ate him for nightmeal. The mouse who'd been the old man's beloved companion. And yet--he felt for the Walker.
Renn clamped both hands over her mouth. Before Renn could protest. He always comes back. He marked the spot with two crossed willow twigs. Not even the Walker could eat them! He had to spit them out and leave them for the foxes!
With its many knife-prick entrance holes. Doesn't matter what. Now that spark was lost. They seek the empty lands! The Far North! The old man didn't glance up. Peering at the snow. We'd better get going. But not this time. They keep him and keep him.
One of his foot-bindings came loose and blew away. Torak dropped his gear and ran back to the lake. He spotted weasel tracks. But still he searches for his Narik. That's why it's angry. That's why it bit the Walker's toes. Almost with reluctance. Torak and Renn exchanged glances--then snatched up their weapons. Suddenly his face changed. The sun was getting low. How can he track a mouse. New fur. He put down his head and began looking for signs. It didn't take long to find a lemming burrow.
Then you're hot. The Walker shook his head sadly. Torak brought it back--and recoiled. They were coming. Torak left them without a word. It'll keep a part of you down there.
Tall Tailless was his pack-brother. The Walker didn't move. The growls inside him were fighting to get free. The lemming woke with a start. Renn handed him his weapons and pack. They seek the eye of the viper! As Torak watched. And he had the light silver eyes. He couldn't move at all. They hadn't gone far when they heard the crunch of snow. Wolf saw Tall Tailless and the female. It hurt to hear Tall Tailless howling for him and not be able to howl back.
Then he grinned. Back on the shore. But he moved slowly on his hind legs. Torak shrugged. He couldn't even move to lick his wounds. He's over there. He was caught in a Dark of his own: The Walker grinned. But would Tall Tailless be able to find him? He was smart. Then he followed Torak back to the crossed sticks. The tip of his tail ached where it had been stamped on in the fight.
He was flattened beneath a tangled deerhide that was pressing down on him hard. That was the worst of it: Wolf knew that as surely as he knew his own scent. The lemming fluffed up its fur and hissed again. It was unlike any hide he'd ever encountered. That is the way of things! Now the Walker must give back! Sharp and small inside his head. Do they think the Walker has forgotten the old ways? Then it waddled meekly onto the leathery palm.
Down in the dark. Now he's a lemming. Wolf boy. It had lots of holes in it. You may find your way out again. In one hand' he brandished his knife. Stinkfur pushed a scrap of elk meat through a hole in the deerhide.
The slender female smelled of fresh leaves. That was a relief. The enemies of wolves are bears and lynxes. Suddenly the sliding tree shuddered to a halt. Why had they attacked him? Taillesses are not the enemies of wolves. He was too squashed to turn and see. He was the worst. As he listened to the viper-tongued female. It was this pale-pelt who now rose on his hind legs and came toward Wolf.
But what was this? Wolf's muzzle was free! Pale-Pelt had cut his muzzle free! Wolf seized his chance and lunged--but the deerhide held him back. He'd laughed as he'd trodden on Wolf's tail.
Mauritius North Port Louis, Pamplemousses and Riviere du Rempart (Photo Albums. Book 11)
Wolf had met some bad ones before now. They bewildered him. She was smearing his pelt with elk blood! The smell was so muzzlewateringly delicious that it drove all else from his head. The last in the pack was a huge male with long. Now the viper-tongued female left the Bright Beast. Until now. The other female. On her45overpelt lay a patch of stinking fur. The otter stopped mewing. Wolf watched the bad pack crouch around the Bright Beast. Not taillesses.
Stinkfur threw up her forepaws. Squatting on her haunches. Wolf watched the taillesses gather around it. Wolf ignored it. After much struggling. Crouching beside Wolf. Pale-Pelt stared hard. Wolf heard the harsh bark of tailless talk. Pale-Pelt laughed. Here came the other one. A few lopes ahead. Did these taillesses think he was46stupid? Did they think he was a dog. At least.
Her voice reminded him a little of the female who was Tall Tailless's pack-sister. Of course. But to attack without warning? No true wolf would do this. His whiskers quivered.
He heard a tailless approaching from behind. Straining ears and eyes and nose. On and on she went. Without wanting to. Pale-Pelt bared his teeth. Wolf gave a muffled growl. Pale-Pelt jabbed at Wolf again. He swiveled his squashed ears to listen.Read reviews that mention ancient darkness chronicles of ancient soul eaters torak and renn far north interested in reading wolf brother darkness series great book books in the series evil paver school follow michelle.
To the south lay the dark rim of the Forest. They were now as far north as any of the Forest clans had been, except for FinKedinn, who as a young man had journeyed into the frozen lands. The shadows were turning blue. The growls inside him were fighting to get free.
Torak gave a shaky laugh. No green thing. Torak raised his head. With heart-stopping suddenness.
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