Winter didn't come; it was. Snow didn't set; it was the ground. Night didn't grow cold; it was always cold. Gone were the days of golden leaves falling in autumn. Gone were the light greens of sprouting plants in spring. Gone was the sun. Gone was the warmth. Gone was the light. In this silence, the forest watches. Ancient power stirs. Veins pulse. Blood falls. This is a tale about more than survival. When the cold snaps, we snap back.
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