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It was a land of splintered peaks, of deep, dry gorges, of barren mesas
burnt by the suns of a million torrid summers. The normal condition of
it was warfare. Life here had to protect itself with a tough, callous rind,
to attack with a swift, deadly sting. Only the fit survived.
But moonlight had magically touched the hot, wrinkled earth with a
fairy godmother's wand. It was bathed in a weird, mysterious beauty.