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Scorching breath seared her nostrils and lungs. Gravel flew like molten steel against her skin as she raced down the dusty track, yet Sumire Nanno's eyes were filled with nothing but confusion.
She had always known that Dream Weaver might be more talented—more gifted than the rest of them. Her own group hardly ever showed up for proper training. How could they possibly outrun someone like Dream Weaver, who practiced day in and day out?
Even before speaking to her, Nanno had braced herself for the gap. Twenty lengths, maybe thirty.
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