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The shouts of men drilling in the mustering yard woke Liam several times over the course of the day. He walked out, cranky-eyed, from his tent in the evening. It didn’t help that he had spent the whole morning carting food to Raquel’s shop.
“Good morning, dear,” Nat rose from her seat at the workshop table with a smile.
“Morning, Nat.”
“I got you your food,” Nat went over to uncover a plate. “It went cold, though. I’m sorry.”
“No, that’s fine,” Liam shuffle ...
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