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Vassa screamed terribly, as he had never screamed in his life. But his cry was quickly drowned out by the outburst of indignation that exploded in the audience. The circle of d'ahs has not seen such a disgrace in many winters and years. To the cries of indignation, he, not remembering himself, rushed across the sand to his already dead father.

- Fool, come back! - belatedly exclaimed, but it was too late.

A blade flashed in Vassa's hand. Baring his teeth, Asa raised his hand with the sword, covered in the blood of his father.

It rumbled as if a huge leather string had been torn. The knife fell out of the fingers of the wolf cub, buried in the sand. Vassa ripped open the bloody mass of sand with his face. The crowd sighed in one breath, exhaled, choked on their own cry, when Vassa was abruptly dragged back, away from the blade, which only missed his head by a finger.

Going through all the curses with which Senches filled his brain over the past twenty-eight winters, Cres quickly pulled
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