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When Piang thought he had outdistanced his pursuer, he slipped to the ground and started off. "Leeeeee lèlèlèlè ouiiiit!" The war-cry rang through the jungle, and Piang knew that his life depended on his fleet-footedness. Over fallen tree trunks, through dense cogon grass, Piang fled. His feet were pierced by wicked thorns, and everything he touched seemed to throw out a defense against him.
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