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The wind roars in her ears, her blood surging hot within her chest. Something is trying to burst free. Something is struggling awake. She loves this feeling. Nothing remains worth fearing, just as nothing remains worth pursuing. A spark of life lies buried within that fragile body. Whether it bursts into flame or dies away, it's only waiting to burn anew. Morning dew cares not for tomorrow, nor does wildfire wait for the spring breeze. The lighter life is, the more freely she longs to spend it. The shorter it is, the brighter it must burn.
