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The pastel lake lay at ease on the evening tide. The streamers of the long Australian summer formed magic patterns about the little rocky islet of the moon. Kiraban stood at the mouth of the sea, his body forming a part of the shadowed headlands. He heard the voice of the sea, the cry of the birds, and now a strange clinking, knocking sound. This new sound came from the dark object which rested on the twilight waters at the lake’s entrance. This, thought Kiraban, was the alien thing that had come from the sea.
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