Fox's Glade and when you’re right, the strength to stand your ground
i will pry his bony fingers free
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she had been here before; the glade held a small corner of her tender heart, for tadec had been fond of this quiet sanctum and they had visited together often. now, it was stripped of its verdant flourish - winter had crept in on long-reaching grey limbs, posing as the beginning touches of fall.

walking among the ruins of summer, the hollow husks of tall reeds and the shivering bare faces of sagebrush, Indra was distracted. her mind kept its own fleet pace, and she was drawn to thoughts of stigmata, of xan’s relative absence in their lives despite occupying the same fishbowl valley, and of whether or not there was any truth to stigmata’s portentious words that winter would doom them.
now the wren has gone to roost and the sky is turning gold,
and like the sky, my soul is also turning.
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