Her first vision had been of a car crash at the end of her street, when she was five, but it may have been coincidence–just a child’s dream. The next, the passing of a neighbour’s pet, a year later, cast doubt on scepticism, and when at eight she foretold the death of a school master her parents placed her in the care of a psychiatrist. Beth Trudeau was special, and her whole life through she had lamented the loss of the innocence that comes from ignorance.
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The old man looked near death but protested he was fine. He liked it here.
He said the ruins of the unknown beings of Tencheros brought him peace for they reminded him nothing lasts forever… But there was more, I knew. His name was Tarrant; he remembered it well enough, and the home ports, and wanted no more of them.
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