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. . . An empty street. An unfamiliar shack. A tightly shut gate. And hanging over the gate, over the dead street, over us all—a Cossack cap with a raspberry-colored band. A trail of smoke from an…
On a seasonable Saturday morning, Itchele decided that the time had finally come to get even with the butchers for their bloody triumph before the holiday. He got together a bunch of young toughs and…