Glenister gazed out over the harbor, agleam with the lights of anchored ships, then up at the crenelated mountains, black against the sky. He drank the cool air burdened with its taints of the sea, while the blood of his boyhood leaped within him. “Oh, it’s fine--fine,” he murmured, “and this is my country--my country, after all, Dex. It’s in my veins, this hunger for the North. I grow. I expand.”…
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