A small bundle of messy black hair sat hidden betwixt the bushes, playing with her dearest shadows. Playing with her best of friends.

  Yet a cold wind blew in the midst of her play, scaring away her dearest of playmates.

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  “Cirinea!” another wind blew, the heavy voice of her father, lifting her up into the cold spring air.

  “Cirinea!” it blew again, yet the strong, strong wings of the wind carried her away, drowning out her screams.