[Evening had come, and darkness has descended. There was a light drizzle, but it is warm, warm enough to bring forth an eerie fog that spread like a plague across the hills. The landscape is dead, barren, for the humans have been harvesting the trees here. The grass is thin and brittle under her paws despite the rain. It looks nothing like what it
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Mother!
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But she is not sorry about Eboshi's demise. She nods at her mother and takes a few steps toward her.]
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Still, she goes forward and touches her nose to her mother's, hands burrowed in the fur of her snout.]
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[Says San, hands still carressing her mother.]
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[And yet, somewhere in that sleep riddled mind of hers, Moro paused.]
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