Her hand closed around it, squeezing tight against them. Their hooked ends drove into her grip, and past her skin. The red trickled down the stork, twining around each thorn. The snow was filled with colour, as it drained out of her and onto the ground. Pale, she was consumed in the blur surrounding her, only the golden of her hair to be recognised. A shiver overcame her stance, unbalanced she fell to the ground. Twitching she lay. Then motionless.
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@efflorecence
I'll write from the heart, whether its in a good mood or not
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