She touched it, and her gaze lifted. "Speak plainly. Langley is getting up, and coming this way. “Bring any new songs you may have. He’s got flowers. They don’t now. She often found herself absorbed by watching the tall grass undulate from the cave’s central doorway as solitary hunters prowled for buffalo and stag on the plain. “Are you cold?” He asked her, cocking his head to one side like a puppy, so close that the heat of his words warmed her cheek.
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