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... rong winds that made the green meadows ripple like the blue water’s surface and that set innumerable petals dancing as freely as though they were white feathers fallen from the wings of fairies had, since long ago, been an oft-selected subject for poems and songs.
However, there were also days in which the sky was overcast with heavy grey clouds and the howl of the rising wind would play a strangely ominous melody.
It was on just such a day.
“Father!”
When Zenon O ...
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