And then fingertip thrust over cliff edge, they have come to an end, but not a real end, one manufactured. The darkness, smoke and fog begin to dissipate at a slick and greasy pace as their sides continue to ache deeper and deeper. They look down to find the wounds are no longer there, but the pain, that raw and rot and oozing pain, seems to have pushed deeper and deeper. Still they can continue forward, this fight was a wasted thing, a fake thing, they were fooled, but they could continue forward. So 2 brave, little girls walk forward.
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