Fumbling through the bag, Elowen’s hands searched frantically until they closed around the smooth glass of a potion vial.
❝Here, I-I hope this is it..❞ she mumbles nervously.
She uncorked the vial with a shaky hand and gently pressed it to
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❝Y-you’re hurt!❞ she breathed, eyes wide. ❝Can you hear me? I… I’ll get help—no, wait—can you move?❞
Her hands hovered uncertainly over their wounds. She didn’t want to cause more pain, but doing nothing felt even worse.
The forest was quiet that morning. Dew still clung to the petals of wildflowers, and the sunlight poured in dappled rays through the ancient canopy.
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Her steps slowed, heart fluttering in her chest. She parted the branches carefully, then froze.
There, lying half-hidden among the foliage, was a figure.
❝Oh my goodness!❞ She whispered urgently, rushing to their side.
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https://t.co/pzsAxDle77 y'know, instead of worrying about twitter shit, why don't we focus on REAL WORLD issues.
Like how here in California, my home state, families are being torn apart by ICE. How, in Los Angeles, ICE raided an ELEMENTARY SCHOOL GRADUATION?
Her hands were steadier than she felt. Kneeling beside him, she peeled the bloodied fabric back carefully, wincing at the sight beneath. “You should’ve told me it was this bad,” she muttered, voice low.
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