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MotherI remember the scent of blood. Everywhere around me, drifting in the air, clinging to my skin, heavy on my tongue. I breathe it deeply and smile, because it reminds me of her - of my mother.I was very small when she found me, wandering through the wreckage of the village where I had been born. I was filthy, covered in debris from blasted houses and dozens of little wounds. I couldn't feel any of it. I was numb, inside and out, until I turned a corner and someone caught me by the arm. I looked up and saw a woman. She was dressed in close-fitting dark clothing, and her hair was long and as pale as her skin. I knew right away she was different. She didn't look anything like the women of the village, but it was her eyes that made her truly different - cold and bright, fixing me to the spot so I couldn't move or even look away.She was a mercenary, hired by another country to attack ours. Once she caught me, she could have killed me and left my body in the street with all the others. But f
EndlessWe are small things, you and IBut we know a field where the soft winds sighWhere we smile secretly as we lieUnder the limitless sunset sky.