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1 " He clung to his pain as an anchor to the physical world, to the husk that housed his soul, too precious to be cast aside, yet the pulse and colour leeched from his wounded body as surely as his blood, and hope foundered in the face of that inevitable end. "
― Georgina Anne Taylor , Fairy Tales for Freya
2 " A chill crept into his limbs and he began to question his struggle against the sure demise of his damaged flesh—so much easier to surrender, to cease the pain, to accept his fate. Instead he raised himself from the damp ground and leaning back against the willow’s gnarled trunk, he gasped for breath, his lungs heavy with fluid. And as he sat, his chin resting against his chest, his eyes upon that ancient pool, his mind began a swift unravelling, the memories cascading like a turbulent river bound for union with the endless sea. "
3 " As a child she had run wild, a brown-eyed and tousled-hair creature, lanky limbs scratched and bruised, among the fishing boats, the shanties and the dunes. A girl at once curious and tempestuous, a girl all too comely, too sharp of wit and her laughter all too loud. "