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Warm-Blooded

Life was a tandem existence. Our beds were the hard dirt floor, alive with filth. Our meals were nothing but bland stews, no meat, nothing. The labor hours were long and grueling. If you fell behind, you would be led away and most usually never seen again.

The modern countries of the world looked down on Adolf Hitler’s regime, and yet they were reenacting it all over again.

~

It was a cloudy morning. It always was. Gray skies were somehow a neverending state on this secluded island off the coast of Greenland.

I shivered. Another obvious aspect of northern life was that it was cold, brutally cold. Especially when my kind is so warm…blooded. An unfortunate turn of words, in this place.

Away on the other side of the yard, a heavy iron door heaved open. Everyone shrank to the walls, trying to avoid eye contact. I simply huddled closer to myself.

Slow, measured footsteps carried across even the howling wind. A man, heavily clad, came over.

“33089!” he growled. I warily stood up.

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