Most of the horses were dead, all but three stallions and two mares left among what was once a thriving stable. “Really? Like 37 who?” “Corinne Carver, for one. “Oh my God! You sounded like my Grandma just now! How did you do that?” He asked, shocked. The lamp was not yet lit, and in the dim light he bent forward as though trying to look into her averted face.
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