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    Summary

    The night was cool and hushed, with a scent of pines in the air: resinous, woody, and clean. Beneath the trees flourished a dense and glistening undergrowth—flat, rounded leaves with deep blue‑purple berries, almost black. When they made camp, it had proven impossible for Gyro to command himself to lie down, to retreat into silence, and relinquish, for that evening, his slow, absorbing study of Johnny’s character.

    Some essential portion of that study demanded that Gyro provoke him; they needed a small fight. Nothing serious—no steel balls, no nail guns. Just a brief scuffle to dissolve the hours of dark. It was vitally important they do so, but it was not a condition of mind or heart that Gyro could have made any other living soul understand.

    “Before—” he began while they were seated at the campfire, casting a glance—which he hoped was not unkind—toward Johnny’s legs. Johnny gave a slight nod. “You ever gotten into a fight?”

    Johnny let out a short, incredulous snort, “Yeah.”

    “I believe it—you make me want to knock the hell out of you sometimes.”

    “What makes you think,” asked Johnny, dryly, leaning forward, “that I was the one getting knocked around?”

    Language:
    English
    Words:
    1,283
    Chapters:
    1/1
    Comments:
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    Kudos:
    79
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