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Chocolate Sometimes Will indulged, curling the phone cord round his finger. While Jonah knew his mother’s maiden name, childhood pet got him every time. “Chocolate,” he replied, verifying his identity with a piece of nostalgia. “But he was a golden retriver.” Will relished his kernel of truth. Still, doubt gnawed at his treasure. Like an omniscient narrator privy to all things, perhaps the Covenant knew about Chocolate. If Allison’s bottle of pills had taught him anything, it was that survival was in the details. The next time the operator queried him, he and Chocolate were less themselves. “He was a huskie.”
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