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The soldier beckons me over silently. I step round the tipped over chairs, old shoes and glass to the door he's found. With a serious look he pulls it slowly open revealing an old dirty freezer where, on the second shelf, a frozen cat stares at us. After a moment its eyes move. 'What the?' I put my hand inside and touch its face. It moves some more. Then with a burst of energy come alive, scratches my hand and disappears out of the cottage and into the woods. I stare at the bleeding scratch on my hand, 'I don't think that's good,' I tell the soldier.

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