When Stephen finally rolled over, the cabin was still bathed in the faint, muted light bleeding through the edges of the curtains. For a brief, disoriented second, he hoped he had slept straight through the night and it was the following morning. But as his heavy eyes focused on the wall clock, it read exactly 6:30 PM. It was still light outside.As the lingering fog of sleep began to clear, the distant, lively sounds of the Midway and the clatter of the food tents drifted into his brain, bringing with them a gnawing, hollow ache in his stomach. He had to eat.He dragged his battered body out of bed and pulled on a clean shirt and pants. With a grimace, he shoved his feet back into his stiff, mud-caked boots. He pushed the heavy cabin door open and stepped out onto the porch, violently stomping his boots against the wood to knock the dried dirt loose.Then, he froze.Walking down the quiet, secluded path toward the neighboring Silver Paw cabin was Emerald. Her leather satchel hung emp
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