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42 You thought you knew him. All those hackled black quills, tail feathers that are eyes blinking in their palms— all that thunderous hooving didn’t seem dangerous. You thought you saw a wild-eyed he-child with a birdcall in the back of his chest and a rattle-work shield standing over a fire, shaking No! I can do it myself! at some implacable god. But gods. Boys.Who can’t know you back. improvisation (boy) ...

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