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The Butterfly and the Spider.Once there was a carefree butterfly.
He flew through the forest everyday, always smiling and happy.
But one day, when he wasn't paying any mind, he flew into a spider's web.
The spider was not pleased by this and set him free.
"Why did you set me free and not eat me?" The butterfly asked.
The spider looked at him to respond. "Because you are happy. And happy things like you still have a chance in this world."
The butterfly was confused but didn't question the spider and flew off.
The next day he can across the web again and watched the spider.
The spider caught many things in his web that day, but none went free like he did.
The butterfly wondered about what the spider had said for weeks and decided to pay him a visit.
"Spider, oh spider." He called. "What you said to me the day you set me free from your web, what did you mean?"
The spider looked at him but quickly looked away. "Don't worry about what I said. Happy things like you should not worry."
But the butterfly pleaded for him to
Papa Loves YouOn a warm day in April, Canada woke with the early morning sun shinning on his face. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and warily yawned then stretched before getting out of bed. He took off his pajamas but before he could put on his clothes, America burst into his room, wearing his favorite cowboy outfit and shot a play dart at his brother.
"Hah, got ya!" He laughed in triumph.
Canada just sighed and pulled the sticky dart of his glasses before getting dressed in baggy jeans and sweater. He looked to America, but he had already ran off to find his next target. He sighed again and went out of his room to the kitchen, messy as it always was with England cooking. Canada went over to him and pulled lightly at his apron.
"Where's papa?..." He asked in his quiet voice.
England just shooed him away, being busy. "Not now, Mathew."
Canada frowned slightly, England never had time for him. No one ever did. He wandered around the house, looking for France before finding himself in his room again.
ReflectionsVal's pursuit led him to the foul beast's domain. The hollowed-out cavern reeked of blood and rancid meat. The dim light he had seen as he charged through the tunnel after the monster could now be identified: torches. Rows of mysteriously lit torches lined the walls of the huge cave. At its center was a substantially large labyrinth of mirrors.
He spotted the beast entering.
He spun his silver broadsword in his hand and hurried in behind it.
His garb was a simple blue and white crusader's leather with thick armored pads and reinforcing steel studs. Lightweight and flexible, but quite effective defense against blunt blows and – in a pinch – the slashing claws of the unholy spawn of the earth. All monster-hunters wore a similar variety in Val's experience. It would serve him well in these close quarters of the mirrored maze.
Right, left, forward, left, right he turned, always catching a glimpse of the beast's tail as he wove his way through the corridors. Every so often he sp
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