Every so often the creature's jaws would snap open and shut, or one member would make an aborted run at the fence. A pack of three was not of human intelligence, but this one could talk. When it saw Ravna and Johanna, its eyes went wide, the whites showing all around, and it rattled barely intelligible Samnorsk at them. The speech was a nightmare mix of threats and pleas that they "not cut,
复件 (19) air max2, not cut!" Poor Johanna started crying then. She had spent most of a year hating the pack these were from, yet -- "They seem to be victims, too. It's b-bad to be three, and no one will ever let them be more." "Well," continued Flenser, "I would like custody of what remains,
mbt tunisha shoes, I --" "Never,
复件 (12) air max1! That one was almost as smart as you, even if crazy enough to defeat. You're not going to build him back." Flenser came together, all eyes staring at the Queen. His "voice" was soft: "Please, Woodcarver. This is a small matter,
复件 (10) air max2, but I will throw over everything," he jabbed at the maps, "rather than be denied in it." "[Oh,
复件 (5) 复件 air max, oh.]" The crossbow packs were suddenly at the ready. Woodcarver came partly around the maps, close enough to Flenser that their mind noise must collide. She brought all her heads together in a concerted glare. "If it is so unimportant, why risk everything for it?" Flenser bumped around for an instant, his members actually staring at one another. It was a gesture Ravna had not seen till now. "That is my affair! I mean ... Steel was my greatest creation. In a way, I am proud of him. But ... I am also responsible for him. Don't you feel the same about Vendacious?" "I've got my plans for Vendacious," the response was grudging. "[In fact, Vendacious is still whole; I fear the Queen made too many promises to do much with him now.]" "I want to make up to Steel the harm I made him. You understand." "I understand. I've seen Steel and I understand your methods: the knives, the fear, the pain. You're not going to get another chance at it!" It sounded to Ravna like faint music, something from far beyond the valley, an alien blending of chords. But it was Flenser answering back. Pilgrim's translating voice held no hint of sarcasm: "No knives, no cutting. I keep my name because it is for others to rename me when they finally accept that ... in her way, Tyrathect won. Give me this chance, Woodcarver. I am begging." The two packs stared at each other for more than ten seconds. Ravna looked from one to the other,
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