until their dying breath
#8
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     “No I’m not,” he said, more to reassure Laruku then himself. He had been diseased before, been through hell and back, tortured by his own body for reasons few knew. A chunk of his hair fell into his face and his jaw opened, panting heavily as they moved along. The heat from the hybrid was much worse then the now cooling air. It was past twilight now, and breezy. It was going to rain. More then likely, they would be caught in it before he made the few-hour long hike back to where his son was.
     He kept walking with the stubborn determination which had driven him to the point he was now. “They didn’t kill me, the dragon didn’t kill me, no disease is gonna kill me.”






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