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Lannie was waiting for her when she came down the hill—the folder tucked away, the mules happy with a flake or two of hay to carry them into the evening and the night growing cool around them all. The clouds had stalled, lurking up high with no indication of releasing any rain.
Holly returned in the twilight, moving easily downhill in that rolling walk. Lannie watched her progress with a semihypnotized gaze, instinctively reaching out to share pack song—
She doesn’t want that. He stopped himself short, shifted subtle intent and let himself listen instead—waiting for the ongoing static to make way for the light and airy sense of her, and then breathing it in.
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