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... esence.
In the dim forest, a woman resembling a witch extended a withered hand, her fingers almost as thin as the thinnest dry twig 007 might hold. They looked dry and stiff, as if they would SNAP if bent even slightly. At this moment, this skeletal hand was tightly gripping a soft, tender one, its fingertips still tinged with pink. The contrast made the witch's hand look even more emaciated. The other tender hand belonged to the woman standing opposite the witch.
Since the woman ...
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