The girl caught a fever while tending to sheep and falling high up in the meadows asleep. Through selfless devotion to each in her flock she'd built up a vast and deep love-karma stock so much so her actions the Goddess did please who saved her from death during a sudden freeze. The maiden awoke to spy frost on the ground where hours before only flowers she'd found and straddled above her with short-sword unsheathed was vast Nuuzstathena stood there on the heath. A wolf was approaching, his nose in the dirt, he looked up and glanced at the bight flashing skirt that girdled the loins of our Patroness fair whose green eyes were flashing amidst her dark hair. The beast turned and vanished with palpable hurry, his footfalls churned frozen mud into a slurry, the flock then came shivering back to her side as Nuuzstathena for the young girl cried. The tears of the Goddess rained down from on high – 'twas nary a thundercloud seen in the sky – they landed and mingled in eye, mouth, and nose of that blessed child who lay there and froze. The magical fluid soon entered her system and filled her with fortitude, honor, and wisdom, while deep in her body the blood it did boil with such intense heat that it softened hard soil. Now during this time of great bodily danger the maiden thought mostly of getting to manger the weakest and lowliest sheep in her care, about her own peril was barely aware. To teach her the Goddess then filled her with visions of methods for healing deep social divisions, for bringing together such humans as might prefer to be angry and constantly fight. Her missions accomplished the Goddess then sped and left Erya Rovend asleep on a bed of bright and green heather in a sea of frost, the young girl who'd gained much at so little cost. To see her just stop by New York's own U.N., where she stands to battle tyrannical men, and fills our Grigovian hearts with such pride, young Erya upon whom the Goddess once cried.
© americanifesto / 場黑麥
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