Rideton, Present Time Other than the movie-watching werewolves, their floor was pretty clear. Which was a good thing, Rhett decided, because Cameron was still off after vomiting. He needed a good feed to make up for what he’d lost and put the color back into his cheeks. “It’s no different,” Rhett tried to encourage his mate to feel better about the massacre. “To chopping the head off a chicken, or slaughtering a lamb, or even taking down a deer on a run.” “Yeah, it is different,” Cameron wasn’t buying it. “And it’s different to what we did at Havermouth, too, because these people are just… peopling. They’re not soldiering.” “They could be soldiering, though, and that’s the point,” Rhett told him. “That they’re not soldiering at the moment, doesn’t mean that they aren’t still soldiers.” “Plus, the butcher kills the lambs and chickens,” Cameron added under his breath as he pressed his ear against a door. “Lots of people in here,” he said softly. “But… Someone’s crying. A kid. I don’
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