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I feel restless in my skin.
Spiked and melancholy and off-center.
As though inside I am not woven of blood and bone but of tundra and wolf howls. Of sleek panthers and lions and leopards pacing, pacing.

At the edges of my senses I can feel their secret smiles, I can hear the whisper of their paws.

It is hard to concentrate, to sit still, because of this strange inner drive - the impulse to be going somewhere.

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rainsinger
deep sky, firefly

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