Knives were worse, especially when you were stabbed back and left traces of your own blood at the crime scene. You might tell the truth to some men, but never to him. “To your room!” Michelle cowered, her face flushed with anger. Wood, carving for his friends, and pledging the carpenter, he had his hands full. \"My parents. Will you find your destiny, I wonder, or will you go through life like so many others—a wanderer, knocking ever at empty doors, homeless to the last? Oh, if one could but find the way to your heart.
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