Prologue

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The wind blew down the crooked road, taking with it what was left of the autumn leaves. The sun was setting, painting the sky's canvas into a dark blue with stars dancing about. A small bird sang its last song of the day as the owls awoke to sing their first of night.

But a figure lurked among the shadows, moving silently through the woods behind the houses. The only sound was of the man cocking his gun. He slipped behind a tree and waited for the perfect time to make his move.

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