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Master The horse was magnificent - a moving splendor of meat, bundled together beneath a black, oily skin. I was a farmhand, just a kid that didn't want to take another slap to the face from his drunken old man. So I took off, and headed south. After drifting for a while, I found the Simmian farm. Simian family lived in that place for generations, almost since their French ancestors disembarked and took the land, and forced the native tribes into the marshes. When I arrived, the head of the family, Robert Simian, had been running the place for at least 30 years.by
His daughter, Suzie, his only surviving kin, was fifteen when the accident happened.
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