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Four voices blur together now as I press myself under a corrugated lip of tin, listening in.
“What’s that? Who’s there?”
“Don’t, Miriam.”
“I swear I heard something...”
“That’s never a good thing.”
“Maybe they have food!”
“Yeah! Maybe they’re like us?”
“Get back over here. Both of you. NOW.”
“I’m hungwy still.”
“I know, Morrow. We all are.”
“We’ll find something. We always do.”
[chomping] “More rat, I’m sure.”
“Don’t make fun, Sid. Food is food.”
“….I’m sorry.”
“It’s ok. Miriam, come and eat some.”
“After everyone else I will.”
“You haven’t had anything in a day. Please.”
“Here, Mir. Take the rest of mine.”
“Eat, silly. You’re a growing young boy.”
“I call the eyebaws!”
“You’re such a strange child.”
“That’s enough. Eat. All of you. I’ll watch.”
“So cwunchy!”
“I’ll take watch next. You need to eat too, Peter.”
“I don’t trust this place. We should move on.”
“Not me! I like it.”
“Me too! Merrymouse Merrymouse!”
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