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I Was on the Hunt, Plying the Sands for Tracks
i was on the hunt, plying the sands for tracks. Wil i an track. Its easy to spot. It is a scorched furrow that smells sour and metallic,. emits enough radiation to prickle the hairs of the arms. As we walked, i remembered the first time i had seen a librarian. My parents had taken me to the public library when i was nine years old. I still never left nightvale. Even at nine, i knew the world was waiting for me in the pages that filled the shelves that filled that building. And i loved it the way i loved my parents, unquestioning and absolute. But then i saw something else in that eyle, a