Today's OneWord: Carved

When Lily carved her name into the tree, she felt the pulse of the oaken veins against her hand. It was not a pulse of pain, merely of annoyance. She drooped her eyes toward the matted brown grass, tangled and overgrown like patches of decaying hair.

Beside her, a bird perched itself on a shrub, delicately balancing one leg on a bending limb and leaf. Quiet and withdrawn.

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