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Updated: May 3, 2025
Isoult knew she must beguile him now for his soul's ease and her own. When the ride grew broad and ran like a spit into a lake of soft dark she stopped. There was moss here, there were lichened heather-roots, rowan bushes, and a ring of slim birches, silver-shafted, feather- crowned and light; more than all there was a little pool of water which two rills fed. "We will stay here," said Isoult.
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