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verge of collapse, sharpening my sister’s beaming grins and
            basking in the undimmed wonder of things to come.
               The twilight worked on the eternally autumnal trees of
            the September Woods like a bellows upon fire, scarlet and
            shadow creeping out of the surrounding woods, pooling dim
            and deep all around. Finally, I rose and walked beneath the
            burning ceiling of the forest, as I knew the time for waiting
            had ended.
               But for the characteristic heaviness that betrays the
            waking world, I might have thought I was in a dream. The
            forest was otherworldly, breeching almost completely out of
            death. It was difficult to imagine, but necessary to realize,
            that the September Woods was not my friend, but quite the
            opposite—it was my sworn enemy. Perhaps more opposed
            than even Jack himself, for my opponent served the Woods,
            loved it, and was loved in return. It would not be kind to me,
            and it would not give up its hero easily.
               Somewhere deep in the Woods, I saw what seemed like
            a bit of twilight caught within the tree branches, incapable
            of descending with the sun, bobbing in the ink. The closer I
            drew to the spot, the more of these lights I saw. Eventually,
            they spread out wide before me, like the glowing, beating
            heart of the September Woods. I was so taken by the lights,
            I’d failed to notice that the wind had picked up, increasing in
            strength by the moment. Before I had time to properly react,
            great squalls of wind bearing dead leaves that felt like razor
            blades held me aloft in the air. I was nearly immobilized.
            The wind thickened the faster it gusted, until I felt as if I
            were being crushed within a gigantic  hand in addition to
            being torn to bloody shreds by the whipping, serrated leaves.
               I  needed  a  moment  of  clarity,  a  space  to  operate.  My
            father delivered me into such a space. It took all my strength
            to reach him, and when my hands wrapped around familiar
            bones, a great rage came into me. The resulting blow from
            the axe upon the thick  wind was as deafening  as it was
            alien. A shriek rose from the Woods itself, lifting into the
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