The serenity he usually found in an early morning run was shattered by an alien sound, loud and jarring in the birdsong.
It was the sound of a body falling… branches breaking… then the thump of a landing on soft leaves and other ground debris, accompanied by a painful exclamation of "Shit!
" That was followed by a quieter monologue of impressive language on the ancestry and deviant sexual preferences ascribed to one… Harrison Blackwood.
Intrigued, Ironhorse slowed his pace to a walk and padded quietly in the direction of the monologue. There was a lot to be said for what you could learn in the U.S. Army, but clearly Dr.
Suzanne McCullough's grounding in the biological sciences and psychology had given her a head start where creative cussing was concerned.
Ironhorse was profoundly impressed with the scope and clinical detail of the practices she was ascribing to the erstwhile head of their Project.
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