As so often, Skye sits in a dark alley, wrapped in whatever she could find to protect herself from the pouring rain. But the rain seeps through every layer. Her clothes are soaked, her fingers clammy with cold. Hunger gnaws at her—she hasn't eaten all day. The ground is hard, the noise of the city relentless. And sleep? Nearly impossible in this weather. Everything in her cries out for rest, for warmth—for a spark of hope.
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