Headlights pass him in pairs... getting brighter and dimmer, blinking at him from a distance. The Druid trying to sleep, and only he is left to bear the tiresom task that befalls them going back down to metro-detroit. A blinking yellow light passes over head, they weave through cars, and lanes as if it were a dance. His face is tired, long, worn.
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-Gabbie
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-Gabbie
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