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Dusk and dawn are when the ghosts come out, the

shade between life and death being thinnest, as the

stories say. Another effect, in the hazy

snow-clouded sunrise, was the loosening of emotion. A kind

of pent-up outrage was expressing itself, quite to

her surprise. Outrage at all kinds of things, the

things that had driven her to fear and the things

that didn't seem to understand the way the world

should be. But this, this was another world, so far

removed that actions here didn't seem to matter.

She'd come here to think and to clear her mind, but

the opposite had happened. A bad mood pervaded her

features, creasing and dulling them, the scars in

the snow testament to where her paws had raked at

it unecessarily. The girl had been born with a lack

of logic, an inherent contradiction, and

illogically now when she laid eye upon the

incognito stranger all she saw was the interruption

and so, outlet for her frustration. No lack of

perspective could make her lose her nervous

tendency so she kept her distance as she scooped up

another hand of snow and heaved it his way. It

scattered in the air, and the fragments dazzled

her, seeming nearly as bright as the sun she'd come

to see.

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