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Fantasyland XVIII

“I didn’t want to harp on about your werewolfness, that’s all,” Harold spluttered in his defence, “what kind of person do you think I am to jump on in and probe you about your now very obvious genealogical link to canines?”
Mary looked up at Harold with pity in her eyes. That was another reason why they never worked as a couple. How much can you love someone if you can’t respect them for who they are?
“What about you Harold? How have you been,” Mary glanced away briefly, a single tear plopped from a heavily congested eye.
“Are you crying,” Harold asked taking a step towards Mary.
She snapped her head back snarling and baring rotting teeth.
“Fine, staying true to form hey Mary, a heart like a rock?
“Don’t push me Harold, now is not the time. So tell me, how is this knight-for-hire business going?
“Bit slow really, it’s a global thing I believe.
“Is that why you killed a blacksmith before robbing him and offering me a small boy to eat?
“He was already dead I didn’t kill him.
“Who did?
“I did,” a voice said.

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