Mia Liang

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Not even in winter, with his exploring on hold, could he give himself the luxury of resting and therefore losing what he had gained. He was adamant that, when spring arrived, his feet would still remember every crack and every stone on the trail, and also that the trail would remember him: that it would accept his footsteps as it had learned to do through his efforts.
The Murmur of Bees
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