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Summary
Geralt set the rag aside and picked up a small tin of ointment.
“There are only two kinds of time one can distinguish,” he said, opening the tin, scooping out some salve with two fingers. “The kind of time you want to hold onto, and the kind you want to leave behind.”
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Trapped in a snowbound cabin, the intimacy of a moment reshapes all the years Geralt and Jaskier have spent together.