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Hannah beamed. She couldn't even recall the details of Sir Fred's life anymore, but she didn't need to—he had been only a fabrication created by Belboz, after all. She knew that she was Hannah, she was fifteen years old, she had always been a girl, and Aunt Meg and Uncle Tom were back at the farm worried sick about her. There was no time to waste. She didn't want to spend any longer in this cave with her dead captor rotting on the floor so near her.
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4/22/2015 1:06:05 PM
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