"How quite is the midnight, love, how warm the winds where ravens fly. Where all the changing moonlight pales in fading eye. How loud your heart is calling, love. How close the darkness at your breast, how hectic are the rivers, love, drawn through your dying wrist. And love, what heat your frail skin hides, as pure as salt, as sweet as Death. And in the dark the Bloodmoon rides, the foxfire of your breath."
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