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The Whispering Woods were quiet that evening, as quiet as a held breath. Rosalind pulled her red cloak tight and lifted the little golden lantern.
"I'm not sure I'm brave enough," she whispered. The lantern flickered, as if it were listening.
Then a small voice called from the ferns — a fawn, lost and trembling. Rosalind took one step forward, and the lantern began to glow.
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