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Onlooker
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Passages
Her stride was labored this morning, trudging up the side of the hill, not her usual jaunty gait. Arms hung limply, lacking the animation with which she typically met the dawn, energetic hands punctuating the air as in some sign language only Mother Nature was familiar with. Though he had never met her he was attuned to her morning routine, watching often from afar through a spyglass. He held no malice towards her, only curiosity. How did she manage out here all by herself?
