#0045. Below ground she decomposes. Her face had once held beauty to rival Rose White, her brain had charm and cunning like a relentless wolf, she was brave as any Jack to climb a beanstalk. But she lost her fight. Witches or cancer. Dragons or kidney disease. Nothing matters. All of her adventuring spirit, all of her accuracy with the bow and arrow, all of her clever puzzle solving, witty disassembly of riddles, horseback riding, prince saving prowess, none of it matters. She is like the dullard once they're both in the ground.
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