Fiction | June 01, 2001

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When we heard the horse we moved from the firelight by the ivied oak where we’d been bivouacked and stood to our mounts.  It was coming right at us.  Pistol aimed at the snapping brush, I called out a challenge.  Virg was crouched beside me, his hackles stiff and fangs bared.  Haemon Willis and Coates had their Sharps at the ready.  Nobody was our friend; we couldn’t be too careful.

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