She heard the deep voice often, its echo lost in the the darkness of the withering woods. And while she never ventured farther than a few boughs of fur tree towards the voice, Persephone carried it with her in her chest -- as though it was a talisman that rested next to her heart. It was a voice like roots: roots to keep her solid, roots to keep her grounded. It was a voice that reminded her she was bound to the great, wide earth.

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