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"Slave driver," mumbled Mariah. She leaned against the rough bark of a pine tree. Her breath came in short spurts, and she felt so exhausted that she could have fallen asleep right there, standing up. |
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The forest was beginning to grow light. Though they'd stopped periodically to rest, the bedraggled group had been on the move since their rescue last night. |
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Thorn touched her shoulder. "Would you not prefer my slave driving to Nahtana's?" |
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"Point taken." She smoothed her torn brown dress and apron as best she could, then touched her crinkled, dirty hair. Oh, well. Thorn had seen her looking worse when she'd dragged herself from the river, the first time they'd met. |
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In moments, she found herself snuggled against Thorn's strong, hard body. One arm clutched her tightly to him. The other held his ever-present Pennsylvania rifle, though he'd left it in the woods while rescuing her from the Indians. "There would be no time to reload," he explained. "I had to rely on surprise." |
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"And strength," she'd said. |
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