She was strong, not unlike a pack mule or a camel; she thought to herself and smirked. " "But I've got to go!" insisted Rollo, in perfectly understandable dog-talk. “Hey you,” he said affectionately. Her eyes filled as she thought of him, the image of his laughing countenance coming into her mind, to be swiftly followed by a vision of the blood running from his cut hand.
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