The Wistful Petal
The knife bit into the palm, and the blood welled up, hot and metallic, staining the white bandage Elias had wrapped around his wrist. He pressed the wound against the rough bark of the Great Oak, the community’s oldest living thing, and felt the sap seep into the cut, a cold, resinous sting that mixed with the pain. It was the first day of the autumn festival, and the square was full of people...
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