But from ignorance. From not knowing. From being kept from knowledge.
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Leader was young but he represented those things. He had never tried to go back, never wanted to. This was his home now, these his people.
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Singing was common in Village, but usually not outdoors, not in the evening. Puzzled, he paused and listened. It was not singing at all, Matty realized, but the rhythmic and mournful sound they called keening, the sound of loss.