Daughter of dusk by livia blackburne6/26/2023 ![]() ![]() There was the snuffling of a raccoon, a scratching of tiny paws. She sampled the odors of bark, new snow, and frozen leaves, and she listened. A shadow moved nearby, and Kyra trained her eyes on it, focusing on the shades of darkness that teased themselves apart if she looked hard enough. Though the snow muffled the forest’s sounds, there was still plenty to be heard. Its light passed through the leafless canopy, making the ground shine silver. But apparently, she wasn’t wise, not where her past was concerned. The previous four times Kyra had come into the forest, she’d told herself it would be her last. Though her Makvani blood made her light-footed, it wasn’t enough to keep her from leaving a trail of footprints between the trees. ![]() ![]() The snow was a problem, the way it crunched beneath Kyra’s shoes and bore marks of her passing. To my favorite astronomer and literary snob ![]()
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