Last updated: 10 hours ago
If you've heard it, you know it: the spine-climbing ache of a howl alternating with a recoiling growl that seems to knock your heart to the ground and Baker's eyes into a witch's trance. It's the stuff of revivalist snake dances or moonlit strange fruit, depending on the side of the mood you've wandered into. You can never be too sure. Nor can Baker.
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