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 "A scythe's journal is traditionally made of lambskin parchment and kid leather."


   "I assume you mean 'kid' as in 'goat," Rowan said. "and not 'kid' as in 'kid'"


   That finally made scythe laugh. Citra seemed to be annoyed that he had made Faraday laugh- as if it put him a point ahead of her. Rowan knew that as much as she hated the idea of being a scythe, she would jockey for position over him because that's how she was hardwired. Competiton was in her very nature; she couldn't help herself.


   Rowan was much better at picking his battles. He could compete when necessary, but rarely got caught up pretty one-upmanship. He wondered if that would give him an advantage over Citra. He wondered if he wanted one

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