Moyenne
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There came an elastic aftershock of creaks and groans and then, softly softly, a chinking shower of rubbled cement. Leaves calmed and trunks stood serene. Where, not a minute before, there had been a suburb, there was now only woodland standing amid ruins...
There is no warning. No chance to prepare. The trees arrive in the night: thundering up through the ground,
transforming streets and towns into shadowy forest.
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