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If, of course, she was still alive. She'd been snatched away by los ninos, the corrupt children of the Canyon, offspring of unsavory couplings between animals and ghosts.
An occasional groan of a yard moving, or the snap of a rope, were the only sounds in the murk. Fear dragged the minutes out th the seemingly endless vigil.
The best they might now hope-he might hope-was a smidgen of comprehension. That would almost be enough, his spirit-slurred brain decided just to die a little less ignorant of mysteries than he'd been born.
