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Outrunning Death in the Shadow of The Scandes

Life is never easy when you’re skjaldmær

Photo by Ben Lowe on Unsplash

Estrid lifted her head and sniffed the frigid wind that tugged the tent flap open and slipped inside. Off the towering Scandes that climbed towards a cloud-sprinkled sky, the wind swept down with it the smell of death: familiar, beloved.




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Danielle Loewen

Danielle Loewen

she/her | reader | queer feminist | recovering academic | body lover | gamer | poet & fabulist

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