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January 3, 2006

Stacy: First Wife

I hear the noise before I can see it. The monotone chanting scrapes like a burr across my ancient nerves.

Centuries I've been gone and still with the chanting.

I turn my head towards the light, eyes still blurred from my long sleep. I flex my claws...when did I get claws?...and the chanting falters.

I can smell them, these humans, and that's one thing that hasn't changed. They stink of soft living and ease, no whipcrack of hardship has ever befallen these.

My vision clears and I spring to my feet, wings unfurling. Let's see what we remember about hardship.

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