Interlude: Successful Endeavours

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Sarada held her burning wrist, which still continued to feel the consequences of her resistance when she left her Uncle. She stood, by herself this time with no voice heard, in the white space that she had grown to accept as her quiet area in between time-points. Her tears had already dried, creating a tight feeling on her cheeks. But she didn't mind.

She stood in the body of whiteness, just waiting for whatever was to happen next. She didn't think anything, didn't say anything, didn't mind anything. Her mind was just blank.

Yet, she was smiling. A soft, benelovent, smile that reeked of acceptance. The last thing she felt before she left her time-point was that if her uncle were still alive, she might've been closer to him than with her own dad.

Finally, she remembered a thought. She was going to be home, back to her father who had the rest of the story. And she was more than ready for it.

The wind slowly began to tug on her, softly this time, and she let it take her as if it were a familiar friend.

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