" "One word before I go," urged Blueskin. My heart misgives me. Fruit trees had been brought all the way from India so their product could be laden on the wedding table, fruits with exotic shapes and haunting flavors ended the meal, cleansing the palate. The baby boy was delivered in a sea of black blood, born dead and blue, and strangled by plague. This queer father of hers had given her everything but his arms.
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