One of the most wonderful things you ever remember was in this moment, not first meeting the boy, or him, but when one of the inmates, the oldest one complexion wise, with tired, sad eyes and drooping skin around it, bones that creak and wobble stood from his miserable crouch shoved the postkeep and grabbed your waist swiftly. It was so sudden, him pushing you to the tips of the fence as he shouted, voice weary and dry, eyes desperate and wide. "Run, child, run!" A dead man _______________________________________________________________________________ Cover Credit to syblatortue.tumblr.com Permission to publish story by ao3 member breath_eAll Rights Reserved
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