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The morning air was crisp, and the sky so clear that many stars hung twinkling still, stubbornly visible, now hours after dawn. The northern gust swept bitterly across the frozen fields of soy bean stubble and whipped against the swampy banks of the meandering bayou. The rippling waves lapped eagerly at its ice crusted edges. Certainly it was a fine morning to pester the unsuspecting puddle ducks huddled up behind what little break the tree-line provided.
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