اکیلے
he continued on, aimless and adrift. floating, a man on storm clouds, or a mist that rolls over the mountains in the early morning. it is cold, and he hates it. having been brought up in a cold climate his entire life, rehan had met zooni in a warm place, and the warmth became love to him. cold was the absence of love, and the absence of zooni was the absence of life itself.
the coywolf trudges over the moors, searching for nothing. his goal, nothing. he should be dead, and yet he is not. he thirsts for something he cannot have. he prays every moment that his blood will be spilled by some force.
why do the ones who seek death live forever, and yet the ones who crave life have it ripped from them?
the coywolf trudges over the moors, searching for nothing. his goal, nothing. he should be dead, and yet he is not. he thirsts for something he cannot have. he prays every moment that his blood will be spilled by some force.
why do the ones who seek death live forever, and yet the ones who crave life have it ripped from them?
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