In the beginning, there were two. She, wandering barefooted in the snow, clutching the torn and bloody dress to her chest and he, a bulky old warrior, covered in wolf skin, sword by his side. They noticed each other in the distance, mirroring shadows in flight. Their trajectories seemed to glide together naturally against their better judgement and desires. The first real glimpse they caught of one another equally frightened them. She thought him a monstrous wolf of legend. He saw a spectre, draped in white, with a fiery halo wiping up around her face. But the storm receded and

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