"Magic bird," the little girl cried. "Don't let me here to die..."
The winter wind pulled at her clothes, stealing away the little heat her raggy coat could hold. Night was near.
In the twilight gloom, the bird looked down, tilting its head from side to side.
Below, the girl had no more tears. Thrist had stolen those as well. Tired, she sat on the leaf-covered ground, her eyes lost ahead, trying to catch the last of sunlight.
Darkness. A howl. Death wasn't far.
Would He greet her like an old friend? Or would He steal her breath without a word?
She looked up, searching for the stars.
That's when she saw it. A bubble of golden light, each feather as bright as a lantern.
The bird extended its winds ready to show her the way. She n...
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