The Teacher’s Hidden Scars (Preview)


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The hissing flames swirled, snaking up towards the wooden ceiling. Burning! Burning! The boy stood on his bare feet, unable to keep straight as the floor grew hotter with each passing moment. Black smoke billowed upwards in a massive cloud, and the fumes wrenched through his lungs like they were on fire, too.

He staggered, covering his head with his arms as he attempted to shield himself. His mind swirled with fog, dizziness threatening to sweep him off his feet. Somehow, he knew that falling meant death. Through the suffocating red, angry flames, he made out the shadow of a moving figure.

What have we done? he kept repeating the mantra in his head. He and his friend, an older, ashen blond-haired boy named Jeremiah, had been fooling around with flint and steel. They could not have grasped the scope of their mistake until it was much too late. Now everything would burn to ashes, including him, he feared.

Please, not Jeremiah, too, thought the boy, his panic swelling in his chest.

Jeremiah’s voice rang out through the flames. “Austin! You have to jump through the fire!” His voice was gripped by a sense of horrified urgency.

Dread sank into the deepest pits of Austin’s stomach. “I can’t,” he strained, choking on the smoke. A stray flame almost licked his face, sending him a step back. The heat was unbearable. Austin felt like he was a piece of unpurified steel cast into the blast furnace, but instead of emerging out as a stronger sword, he would be nothing but charred bones.

“It’s too hot,” he mumbled, starting to feel delirious, and he knew stepping closer to the fire would be the end of him.

Jeremiah cursed, barely visible through the fog of smoke and the orange and red flames. With a terrifying groan, something heavy fell from the ceiling across the room from Austin, where Jeremiah’s voice had been coming from.

“The house is caving in. I’m going to die!” hHis mind screeched with the calamity of their stupidity. He wanted to peel off his emotions and face death like the man he would never get the chance to become. “Jeremiah, run! Get away, now!” He gestured with both hands as if he had the power to make his friend leave. “There’s no use in both of us dying.”

“No!,” Jeremiah roared ferociously. Austin was torn between pride in his friend and sorrow that Jeremiah’s stubbornness would cost him his life. “I won’t leave you behind,.” hHe said in a determined tone.

Austin’s spine stiffened, and he shook his head. His feet were already burning underneath him, and it was likely a matter of seconds before the fire consumed him. He gritted his teeth, fighting against the tears that streamed down his cheeks.

He closed his eyes and balled his fists. Is this what Hell is like? he could not help but wonder.

A second before he took a silent, faltering step into the heart of the golden and red hues that hissed before him, something cracked with a loud boom. His eyes shot open. There was a large board on top of the fire, breaking the circle. “Come on,” Jeremiah held out his hand, and Austin did not linger. “Hurry,” urged the ashen blond boy.

Twinges of guilt twisted Austin’s innards as he ran across the wood that was starting to burn, too. His legs exploded in pain that traveled up his spine, threatening to dismantle him from the inside, but he wobbled forward. On the other end of the board, Jeremiah wrapped an arm under Austin’s, half lifting and half dragging him toward the exit.

Smoke covered the large area with scattered pieces of furniture lit up. Shouting voices emanated from outside the door. Austin could see it, the end of their torment, just ahead.

Burned wooden shingles kept falling, the floorground trembling as it threatened to cave in on itself. “Almost there.” Jeremiah delicately stepped around the burning pieces, carving out a trail for Austin to follow.

Just another step forward, he thought. Just then, a large plank came tumbling from the collapsing ceiling. It swung across just as Jeremiah leaped forward, striking Austin in the back of the head. He yowled as he was knocked to the floor, landing near the heart of some burning coals.

“Austin!” Jeremiah’s voice sounded distant, his image blurry. Austin’s hand twitched as he reached out toward Jeremiah. He could just make out flimsy figures dragging his friend out, cowboys who worked for their fathers, he assumed.

Hopeless, he let his hand flail and fall. The pain was too incredible for his mind to handle. It shattered,   doubling his vision. Utter blackness consumed him. He had no dying words as he was submerged into unconsciousness.


Austin’s eyelids flashed open with a start, his breathing rapid and ragged. “I’m alive.” The words wheezed out of him. When Austin attempted to move, something hot and lancing shot up his entire side, and he gasped, sucking in a sharp breath. “It hurts, everything hurts.”

A hand forced him to lay back on the cot bed, thraswisthing as he struggled to keep the burning away. “Calm down, boy,” the woman’s feathery voice fell on his ears. “Those are some nasty burns, and you will hurt yourself if you keep thrashing.”

Something in him snapped, and he forced his body into stillness. Austin stared at the roofing planks that jutted into a pyramid, reaching with his uninjured hand to feel the dressings covering him. “Where am I?”

An oil lamp flickered on a nearby table, and his muscles tensed at the sight of fire. He transfixed his widened eyes on the one perched on the wall. “You’re home now. Your father brought you here and sent for me to treat you.” The woman sat in a chair next to the bed, mixing something in a bowl.

“What about Jeremiah? Is he alive, too?” With the excruciating pain blasting through his lungs, hands, and feet, he feared he might have lost his best friend as well. The woman nodded primly, her eyes on the bowl. Relief dampened his pain for a moment as he asked, “Where is he?”

She stopped working and stared at Austin. “His father took him away. They will be staying at one of his ranches by the river. They are mourning all that was lost in the fire. It spread past the house. People were seriously hurt, and much livestock was lost.” The woman sighed, and her gray eyes shone with kindness and concern.

“Perhaps, Austin, spend your time reflecting on tonight and letting yourself heal. The oil and lime-water liniment won’t accomplish that by itself.” She rose to her feet, her long dress disappearing from his limited view. “I will come in every morning to change the dressing and apply more herbal medicines. Sleep well tonight.”

“Can you please take the lantern with you?” he asked, afraid of what might happen.

The woman looked back at him and nodded.

After the wooden door creaked and shut behind her, Austin muttered, “There’s no sleep that can undo what I’ve done. Only nightmares await me.” The nurse’s departure left a cold void in the room, and he felt haunted by the ghosts of his decisions.

As the hours dragged on, Austin could not stay awake any longer, despite the searing pain that would not subside. Eventually, he allowed the embrace of the night to envelop him, and soothe the burns that would forever be a part of him.

Chapter One

“Ah, the sweet scent of Nevada air.” Tucker splayed his hand through the air, as he rode to the edge of the quaint, little town of Jordan. “How homey it feels, right Bailey?” He rubbed his stallion’s neckape, and the stubborn beast snorted in response. “We will get you some soft hay and clean water soon,” he reassured him– —his only friend in the world.

Sitting comfortably in his saddle, Tucker looked back at the trail of swirling dust that rose in his wake. “Virginia City was nice, wasn’t it? At least, for as long as that lasted,” he mused with a sigh as the soft sunlight fell on him, his brown leather Stetson hat shielding his face from the direct rays.

He stared at his hand, where old scars stared back at him. Maybe he did deserve what his life had become. It managed to get thrown under, no matter where he ventured into this world. “Virginia City is the past, just like all the others, and Jordan, Nevada is the present.” He was mumbling to himself when his gaze rested on the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

She moved with a delicate sway of her hips, which melded gracefully into her dignified posture. Her auburn hair glowed under the sun’s brilliant touch like nothing he had ever seen before. His heartbeat increased, and Bailey snorted as if the horse could read his unspoken thoughts.

For days he had been riding , and fighting for survival without meeting a friendly face. At last, he had made it to a new town, and the first face he saw made it all seem more worth it than anything else had.

“Okay, Bailey,” he spoke in a low voice, gently patting the black animal on the shoulder, “be cool now. We want to make a good impression here, don’t we?” As he murmured, he felt the horse tense up under him. There’s got to be an inn around here somewhere for us, thought Tucker as he felt Bailey’s unease.

Bailey’s head rose as he stopped in his tracks, finally noticing the woman inching ever closer. She wore an ankle-length yellow dress that had a high collar and long sleeves. Her modest appearance only endeared her to Tucker more, and he was only able to take his eyes away from her because of his increasingly stressed steed.

Bailey’s mane and tail stood on end, his hooves pawing the rough ground as his weight shifted anxiously from one foot to the other. Tucker’s traveling companion was wary of strangers after his terrible mistreatment at the hands of the miner who had owned him before. Those fears were only compounded after a long, lonely journey, it seemed.

“At ease, Bailey,” Tucker whispered soothingly. “She’s not going to harm you.”

The reins jerked powerfully in his hands as Bailey lurched forward. The horse’s hooves pounded against the ground, and Tucker held on for dear life. The pulse on the side of Bailey’s neck accelerated, and for a split second, Tucker’s mind flared with panic at the thought that the horse might plow right through the woman.

“Bailey, no!” he shouted as he was wrenched in his saddle, the agitated horse charging down the gravel road.

The stranger yelped, falling backward with a start. Bailey almost collided with her before she had even seen him coming. Tucker pulled hard on the reins, bringing him to a stop at last. Had the woman been even one step closer, things might have turned out very differently.

“Relax, boy.” Tucker managed to calm him down a little and dismounted gingerly.

After patting Bailey’s forehead and ensuring that there would be no further issue, Tucker led the horse over to a watering trough nearby. The cool drink seemed to ease Bailey’s mind further, and Tucker looped the reins around a post quickly before turning back to the distressed woman.

When he did so, their eyes met. Sparks of invisible, electrical surges feathered over his skin, covering it with goosebumps. He bit his bottom lip nervously. Tucker had never seen a woman with eyes as beautiful as hers, with intense, icy blue irises. For the first time in his life, he found himself unable to steer his gaze away from a woman.

She dusted her yellow dress and inched closer to him and the horse. “Forgive me, ma’am,” Tucker said sincerely, once he had found his voice again. “Bailey meant no harm. He just has some bad memories with people from his past.” Tucker rubbed the nape of his neck, feeling his pulse increase.

“Ah,” she answered in an easy tone as if she had not just narrowly escaped serious injury., “Ddon’t we all?” She flashed him a brilliant smile, and his heart rattled in his ribcage.

Feeling like a foolish boy, he cast his eyes nervously down to the ground. There, he spotted the woman’s broad-brimmed hat sitting wrong side up in the gravel. “Oh, you dropped your hat.” As he reached down to scoop it up, he heard footsteps crunching on the ground.

When Tucker straightened, his back grew rigid. He watched with awe as the woman stood fearlessly beside the animal that had nearly trampled her into the ground. She tucked a few loose strands of hair behind her ear, her back facing him.

“Easy there,” she murmured soothingly. “I’m not going to hurt you. Bailey, was it? What a nice name for such a handsome boy.” The horse snorted, swaying his head aversively, but Tucker noticed that there was less resistance in his action each time.

“There, that’s it. What a good boy you are,” she cooed, brushing his muzzle. Then, she pulled a red apple from her pocket, holding it beneath Bailey’s mouth while he munched.

Bailey’s lathered skin slowly dried, glistening in the sun as he quieted. The woman chuckled when he finished his snack and humphedharrumphed. “Charm.” She turned to face Tucker, who stared at her in amazement. “Works every time with them, am I right?” Her teasing smile drew a similar expression from Tucker.

Who was this angelic woman?, he asked himself, fumbling with the net on her hat. “Thank you, miss. Here.” He dusted off the hat and handed it to her. She inclined her head before putting it on. Tucker’s face fell as he realized something he had missed before. Her face was marked, and he wondered what had hurt her so.

The scars traced down one cheek and appeared to continue under her high collar. He tried not to picture what horrible nightmare might have caused it. Her scarring had a unique beauty, he thought, rubbing his right arm subconsciously.

“You know,” he said with a smiled, staring at the most beautiful woman he had seen in all his years running around from city to city, “no one has ever shown Bailey kindness after he nearly killed them before. Usually, they’re a good bit more upset about it.”

“Are they? Well, I find it rude to jump to conclusions about people,” she replied, her voice soft. “I include animals in that analysis. They’re much more than just beasts to be put to work, after all. They can be fiercely loyal, but they can also feel the harm of a painful past, can’t they?”

Her blue eyes blinked, seemingly the carriers of uncanny wisdom, and Tucker found his heart thudding like a drum, life awakening in him. “Yeah,” he answered thoughtfully, “I do believe you’re right about that.”

A slow gust blew her long dress, and Tucker felt the profuse sweat that had seeped and dried into his shirt and vest in his long days of travel. His boots were covered in dust, the former polish completely obscured. If bodies of water had been more easily found in that part of the country, he might have come to town looking like a more decent fellow. He needed to get somewhere to clean up fast before he grew even more conscious about the state he was in.

“You’re new to town,” she noted, tilting her head at the bags and bedroll saddled to the horse, whom she continued to stroke. “It must’ve been a long journey. Where are you coming from?”

“Virginia City,” he was quick to answer, trying to keep his voice steady, despite his racing thoughts. “It wasn’t so welcoming.” He adjusted his hat brim and pulled up his oversized handkerchief a little under his chin. “I’m hoping Jordan will be.”

Her brilliant eyes shone with understanding. “Ah, welcome to Jordan then, sir. I’m Lily, by the way.”

Scratching his jaw before taking her offered hand, he felt his heartveins pumping hard. “Nice to meet you, Lily. I’m Tucker. Do you live close by?” he asked, hoping he could escort her.

“Yes, but I’m running a personal errand at the moment.” She pulled away from the horse at last. “Enjoy our cozy little town, Tucker and Bailey. I hope to see you around.”

Tucker released her hand and watched as she sauntered past him, seemingly unbothered by what he was sure was a strong odor coming from him. He tried not to make it too obvious to any passersby that he was staring at this remarkable woman, right up until she disappeared.

“We need a change of clothes, Bailey.” He leaned against the horse, sniffing his kerchief. The horse’s nostrils flared, his dusty hooves rubbing against the ground, and his large black eyes peering at Tucker. “Oh, don’t look at me with so much judgment, pal. As if you weren’t staring at her longingly, too, over an apple. Been a while since you ate one of those, huh?”

Scratching his head, Tucker struggled to comprehend the emotions stirring in him and chuckled lightly at his silliness. “Well, pal, I don’t know about your methods, but you did make us a new friend. How about we find a place to stay and rest after a long ride.” He grasped the reins and tugged lightly. “Come on now, we could both use a good meal and a bath.” Tucker smiled at the horse and led the way.

The small cabin homes of Nevada looked quiet and peaceful. Young boys ran around, some barefoot, as they invented games to play together, while a few young girls aided in chores by their mothers’ sides. He rodeled his trotting horse past a shabby cobbler’s shop and walked past the windmill whose large fans careened softly from the low wind.

Down the dusty road with parted shops and working rooms on either side, Tucker saw stalls forrom various merchants. He dismounted from Bailey and led him over to the side of the road.

“Excuse me, sir.” He tapped a finely dressed gentleman on the shoulder.

“Not interested,” the man snapped and walked away.

“Okay, then,” whispered Tucker, inching over to a woman selling fruits in her stall. “Good day, ma’am?”

She looked at him warily but remained standing behind her stall, eyes scrutinizing him. “Yes. It is a good day if you have money to spend. You want some fruit?”

Although his stomach growled at the sight of the plump, prickly pears, he needed to prioritize his spending before giving in to the temptation of fresh food. “No, thank you. They look delicious, but I was hoping you could direct me to where I might find lodging for me and my horse.”

She sniffed with disinterest but obliged, evidently eager to get rid of him. “Just there.” She waved a finger farther up the road. “There’s an inn. Stable around back.”

“Thank you,” he responded, careful not to match her tone. As he led Bailey on toward the inn, he found himself hoping he would bump into Lily around here somewhere.

Somehow, though, he knew it was only a matter of time before his bad luck followed him to this new town.

Chapter Two

Lily walked into her house sometime after darkness had descended. She left the stray black cat that usually lingered on her wooden roof, eyes glowing in the night, perched on the arch. She planned to bring a meal out for her later. Before that, she headed straight into the small kitchen and started a fire inignited the flames of her wood-burning cast-iron stove, which sizzled to life gently.

“Some tea to go along with the pastries will be nice.,” Sshe hummed to herself, placing a pot of water on the stove. Once done, she fished out the pastries her friend, Clara, from the local bakery, had given her.

Lily tossed her shoes nearunder the rocking chair, leaning against the wooden wall of her dining room. She stretched out her neck and sauntered into the cozy library room in which she usually spent her evenings. The rows upon rows of bookshelves, steadily resting against every inch of walls in this room, greeted her. She held out her candle holder, light flickering in the dim room.

“Home sweet home,” she murmuruttered, hanging the candle on a small shelf made for that purpose, and twirling at the open center, inhaling the comforting scent of her countless pages. “I have missed you, my friends,” Lily cooed, fishing a leatherbound book from her purse. “Now, you join your friends and family here, as I promised.” She always felt most content in the slightly musty room.

While settling in, she recalled the long day, full of fond memories. Earlier, Lily had been walking from the local school where she taught, heading to a colleague’s house to collect a book on botanical studies. Her heart pounding like the war drums of a confident army, she pictured the events that had occurred during her walk, when she had met a certain raven-haired, green-eyed cowboy.

She drew out her hardwood chair, which had cotton padding, and swept her skirts in to sit down. Her eyes quickly fell onto a sentimental item that sat at the far corner of her small desk. Despite the journals and other books that were neatly piled in the small space, Lily’s eyes focused on the details of the faded, black-and-white, grainy picture of her family.

Her father stood at the end of the line, and her big brother held baby Lily in his small hands, while their mother doted on the little bundle. Feeling a small tug of happiness, Lily clasped the image in her hands, tracing trembling fingers across the faces frozen in an eternal moment of happiness.

“I miss this.” She drew and released a shuddering breath. It was bittersweet to look at that picture and remember a brief time in her life when that happiness had been hers. “I wish it could have stayed like this. We could have been happy, a real family, even now.” Even as the words tumbled out of her dry lips, she knew it was just a fairytale.

Lily’s heart ached, wishing she could remember it better, being happy and loved by all her family. If only she were able to cling to those memories instead of the monstrous nightmare that was her life as she grew into a young woman. Her scars, visible to the world, had surely scared away any possible prospects of respectable husbands.

“When was the last time you had dinner with anyone? ” she wondered, smoothing out the sleeves of her dress after letting go of the picture. “Anyone other than Clara or this sweet cat?”

Spikes of a terrible memory pierced through her mind and soul. It was a dinner she had had with her father that had been terrible as he’d berated her for her appearance, not for the first or last time. “Eat your food,” he’d commanded, jabbing his fork in her direction as if he would drive it into her if she failed to comply.

“I can’t,” she had replied with tears streaming down her young cheeks, one of which was made taut by the scars that lined the right side of her face. “Please, it hurts.”

Tears brimmed in Lily’s eyes as she cast her mind through the smoky, gray landscape of memories running through her mind. Her father had grumbled, tightening his hold on the fork in his hand. “If you don’t eat, you’ll wastene away into nothing, and then what do I get? You have to fatten up and get married before you’re too old.”

A pang of sadness coiled in her chest. “I don’t want to get married,” she had said emphatically, remembering the whispers trailing after her from the local townsfolk.

“The devil’s spawn,” one man and his children had called her, while others called her his mistress. The only reason they refrained from shunning her out loud was the fear of her father, who held a dreadful reputation. Lily would usually sit by the cattle’s pasture to avoid meeting people who treated her like a monster.

“Besides, no one wants me anyway,” she’d said, her voice dead.

“It’s a good thing no one is asking for your opinion or what you want, girl. If not for your mother, you’d be sleeping in a kennel where you belong, but here we are. And I will not have the town whisper gossip about me having a spinster who can’t even find a boy to take her.,” Hhe waved the fork at her, brandishing it like a weapon as he spoke. “Do you understand me? You will make yourself a good, silent girl until you’re out of my house.”

“But, Father–”

He cut off her protest, slamming his hands onto the table. “Silence! A friend has agreed to make you up and send your picture to some prospects. Let’s see if you’re worth a dime or if I should send you to a nunnery and be done with it.”

Lily’s eyes had fallen to her mother, who sat across from her, head shaking her head , and signaling to her to be quiet. Lily had had enough of being treated like she was useless. In that moment, she had wanted to cry, blaming everything on her mental and physical scarring. At night, she could not sleep, her chest pounding with utter fear for her life, and that only further pushed those around her away. They claimed that the fits she had were some form of hysteria.

Now, as she looked at the picture on her table, she thought of them as heartless, no longer the people captured in this moment. “Sometimes, those who are meant to love, cherish, and protect us are the ones who hurt us the most,” she mused as she placed the photograph back on the desk with a sigh.

Every time she arrived in a new town, everyone whispered after her, but there was one key difference that made Jordan stand out. She had made a friend, Clara, who held no judgment against her in the two months she had been staying here. Though apprehensive, the townsfolk here were a little more open-minded and allowed her to become a teacher. Whereas in the other towns she left behind, no one wanted someone they feared to look at teaching their children.

One thing that was beginning to bother her about her little Nevada town, though, was the sense of fragility the people made her feel. Lily had made the mistake of having one of her fits around the middle of town, in full view of dozens of people, and they had acted like they were walking on eggshells around her ever since. More than ever before, she loved the sanctuary of her cozy library.

Sighing, she stood up and headed back into the kitchen, where her water boiled. She poured the water into a cup before placing the tea leaves and letting it steep. “I won’t let these afflictions define who I become,” she promised herself in a whisper. “I can reinvent myself like the characters from these fascinating worlds of books always do. I can make it here this time, turn this into my permanent home. I won’t have to run forever,” she encouraged herself, stirring in the milk and sugar.

While Lily ate her evening meal, she contemplated what to teach the children tomorrow and figured it would be a good time to let them learn about compassion and caring for one another. “I have a chance to create better individuals who will be opposite to the likes of my father.” She bit into the soft pastry bread, silently thanking Clara for these.

“I must teach them about hope as well, looking toat the future with positivity,” she mumbled between bites. “Hmm,” Lily mused, her jaw slack. “Tucker.”

She whispered the cowboy’s name. Meeting him had stirred a vivid, rushing sense of life and hope in her. There was something about the way he had looked at her without judgment, even when he must have seen her scars. He might have even shown admiration, although she told herself she must have imagined it.

By the time Lily retired to her bed, she was smiling in the dark. Her mind had a new occupation, a distraction from the memories of sorrow and fear. Instead, she replayed her chance meeting with the new cowboy who had just ridden into town. His emerald eyes held the pain of a thousand lifetimes, she thought, but a brilliant spark of life shone in them, too.

Tucker’s rugged appearance and the care he had for his horse’s tranquility touched her. Despite his dirty boots and grimy appearanceal, he did have a nice charm about him. He had come upon her like a whirlwind, and if she was not very careful, he would surely sweep her off her feet.

Even when her heart raced from a brush with death, Lily thought Tucker had seen something beyond her damage. He talked to her so sweetly rather than blaming her for being in his way. As her mind replayinvoked the image of his smile, Lily’s heart pounded so fast and hard that she feared it might burst right out of her chest.

“Come on, Lily, get a hold of yourself,” she scolded. “He doesn’t think that way aboutof you, and probably won’t remember what you look like, let alone your name.”

I should keep my distance, and shield my heart from this cowboy. If I don’t protect myself from further disappointment, I’ll be just asking to get hurt, she thought, her eyes fluttering heavily with the need for sleep. Still, the image of him smiling down at her and speaking without disdain stuck with her as she let sleep take her into its embrace.

“The Teacher’s Hidden Scars” is an Amazon Best-Selling novel, check it out here!

In the heart of the American frontier, scarred schoolteacher Lily struggles with haunting nightmares and a mysterious illness. Determined to rebuild her life in a new town, she finds solace in the friendship of a local doctor and a kind-hearted baker. Yet, beneath her resolve lies a deep yearning for love, a love that sees beyond her facial scars.

Could anyone look past her scars to embrace the love she offers?

Tucker is a rugged cowboy with a troubled past and a trail of bad luck. Haunted by a mistake that refuses to fade, he finds an unexpected kinship with Lily. His heart yearns for her, yet self-doubt shadows his desire for happiness. Tucker stands at a crossroads, torn between his longing for love and the fear that he doesn’t deserve it.

Will he overcome his past to seize a chance at love with Lily?

As unsettling rumors and accusations engulf the town, casting a dark cloud over their budding relationship, they must confront the ghosts of their pasts. Amid suspicion and turmoil, Lily and Tucker must decide whether to surrender to their fears or fight for a future together. In a world where scars are often seen as blemishes, Lily and Tucker embark on a journey where their deepest wounds pave the way to a profound and resilient love…

“The Teacher’s Hidden Scars” is a historical western romance novel of approximately 60,000 words. No cheating, no cliffhangers, and a guaranteed happily ever after.

Get your copy from Amazon!


Grab my new series, "Brave Hearts of the Frontier", and get 2 FREE novels as a gift! Have a look here!

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