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There were sounds as they neared the end of the tunnel. Little shufflings and shushings which fell into a deep pool of silence as they passed the stacked wooden crates lining the walls.
From the corner of her eye Gilli caught a quick glimpse of someone’s small face. And just as quickly it disappeared, as if the owner were jerked quickly back into the shadows. In a few quick steps she caught up with Jack, and nudging him, nodded toward the boxes.
‘The small folk,’ she whispered . . .
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