| http://www.w3.org/ns/prov#value | - He picks at it still, despite the rope, fearing it will not scar.There is a burn on his arm, from carelessness and a campfire, not fireworks as it should be, and never will.There is a scar across his palm, from a kitchen knife when adventures ended before supper, and never left one cold, battered and bound.And carried ahead, there is another scar, brother to his own.
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