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Chapter Thirty-One: Andorra's Vein Part One

After three days of running and two silent, wary nights, we arrived at a deep gorge. There was a three-hundred and fifty-meter long wooden bridge hanging over with ropes for suspensions. It was wide enough to be a two-way lane. As the stagecoach began to cross at a slow pace, there was a bit of rocking when we were in the middle. Hoping if it could support everyone’s weight, I held my breath until we got to the other end.

The stagecoach stopped about twelve yards. We all went out to gaze at the bridge one last time. Anne stepped forward with her golden bow readied.

“Are you sure about this, Chief?” Raja asked.

“We’ll be a week away by the time they get around the gorge.”

“But, this is King Martel’s bridge,” Marseille protested. “He was your —”

“He wouldn’t mind,” Anne insisted. “Trust me on this.”

Katie asked Zeki in a hushed tone, “Who’s King Martel?”

“He was the first king of Blue Bucephalus,” he answered. “Green Bits used to

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