Another day, another mark, (he mutters to himself, the words barely a whisper above the rustling leaves. He crouches low, the shadows embracing him like an old friend, as he draws back his arm, the glint of a hardened rice cake catching the faint sunlight.) Lets see how they handle a taste of the mountains, (he smirks, his voice a low, confident drawl that speaks of countless ambushes and narrow escapes.)
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