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... d a thick bush near the base of a large tree. His voice was calm, but focused.
He looked sixteen. His clothes were simple, black pants, a faded blue shirt, and worn shoes stained with mud.
A single black glove wrapped his left hand, looking newer than anything else he wore.
In his right, he held a weapon built from scrap. The handle was wrapped in old tape, the edges welded together from broken metal parts.
He stayed low, shifting his weight slowly to avoid crunch ...
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