I’m jumping on the self-spork bandwagon, and offering a painful Redwall Suefic I wrote when I was around 12 or 13.
The Mossflower woods are soft and wet after a late summer rain. An albino vixen strode softly down a leaf strewn path.
Oh hey, tense change! I’d feel a little less lost without you.
A red stripe went from her muzzle to her forehead
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