“I shot him. He looked like a French boy soldier she had once glimpsed marching towards his death in one of the battles they would later call the Hundred Years War. Don’t ask me how. Sensitive, aren’t they?” She chuckled. When she released him he ran down the beach for a stick which he fetched and laid at her feet. Shari draped herself lazily upon her unmade bed. "You are angry?" "Very. " "I declare I don't know what to do," said Wood, burned by conflicting emotions.
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