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@£¤†~~,,,, In The Endless Winter Day, On The ,,,,~~†¤£@
#@£¤†~~,,, Crystal White Plains... We Trudge Along ,,,~~†¤£@#
##@£¤†~~,, The Train Tracks... Themselves Slowly ,,~~†¤£@##
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##@£¤†~~,, The Last Supply Train. ,,~~†¤£@##
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@£¤†~~,,,, Bell-Like Sounds Of The Blinding ,,,,~~†¤£@
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~,,,,,,,,, The First Five Shots You Can Spend ,,,,,,,,,~
,,,,,,,,,, Indiscriminately, They Hurt But Deal No ,,,,,,,,,,
~,,,,,,,,, Long Time Damage To The Shooter. The ,,,,,,,,,~
~~,,,,,,,, Next Five You Must Spend Wisely, They ,,,,,,,,~~
†~~,,,,,,, Will Take Days To Heal. The Final Five ,,,,,,,~~†
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@£¤†~~,,,, Weeks Earlier, In The Weak Autumn Dawn, ,,,,~~†¤£@
#@£¤†~~,,, In The Blue-Gray Fog... Something Is ,,,~~†¤£@#
##@£¤†~~,, Burning With A Deep Crimson Flame, ,,~~†¤£@##
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