As they left Florence, dying men and women still scrabbled through the streets, screams emanating from the rows of houses, beggars running up to the horses, sick children in their arms, their eyes bleeding, their noses running, begging to join them in their journey out. ‘—without telling her why,’ he finished, ignoring the interjection. He brought home a few waverers to talk to them where they had no chance of getting away. Sebastian grabbed the infant once again by the chest and it wailed into the air, exposing its rows of shark like teeth. 5.
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