A Weathered Note

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They won’t take our blood. Not anymore.

We ran and hid in the forest, found an abandoned shack. Risked a small fire to dry ourselves, and cook something to eat. Cetina’s asleep now, the fire brightening her tired face. Despite all we’ve been through, she’s still as beautiful as the day we met.

Might be my imagination, but I think I hear the hounds in the distance. I know that sooner or later they’ll find us.

They won’t drain a drop more from my beloved.

God, please forgive me.