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“Ooof. Shit. Ouch. Damn,” I collected myself from the graceless sprawl of my landing and took inventory by feel in the unrelenting darkness. “Yep, hands are full of rocks and blood. Awesome. Knees feel pretty much the same. No band-aids or peroxide that I can see,” I said to myself. I paused for a slightly hysterical giggle. “Road rash on right hip: check, and… yes, we have a black eye.”

I gingerly plucked half a mountain’s worth of gravel out of my palms and knees and tried not to wonder how I was still alive. It didn’t seem to make any more or less sense than anything else that had happened since I broke through the clearing. I decided to just let it go. When situational crazy is driving the train, you should always keep your personal crazy tucked in the attic...

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Series Info