Smith had never seen anything like it. The ink, contained in a grimy bottle unearthed in the outhouse, was old, and made blotches as soon as it touched the paper. Blue haze had settled beyond the black silhouettes of trees, graduating to the deep violet that began the night sky. There is no hidden beast in you, Hoddy. Annabel laughed a little uneasily. The morning swims in the lagoon had thickened the red corpuscle.
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