" Trophy Kill was a riff on the classic fougère, the favorite accord of Victorian gentlemen. Fig and violet shifting to a base of oakmoss, musk, and mildewed leather. Dark, toothy, unexpected. Close your eyes and you could be lost at dusk in the kind of fairy-tale forest the Grimms never cleaned up. A fox hunt ending in blood. A strong stirrup cup, and shadows. A riding habit wrenched above the knee. "
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