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The Silence of My Father's Caplock
I had kept my father's caplock pistol hidden, tucked inside my krenolin. Benjamin knew about it, of course, but had obviously never mentioned it to Eustace. He told me how good he would taste, better than any salted pork. I could cook him over the fire, and the cold would keep him fresh for as long as I needed. It has been five days now, and Benjamin still entreats me. He taunts and curses me by turns, cause me a coward who would rather die than be part of something greater than myself. The entrance to the cave is all but blocked with snow, and even if I were to dig my way out