Ash Martins and Betty Nichols

Betty Nichols
Inspiration piece

By Ash Martins

Aila knelt, weeping with the ancient willow tree. Her hands clawed at the musty soil. Gingerly, she lowered the tiny form, deep enough no creatures could reach. The empty-handed mother replaced the soil. She never learned how many weeks along she’d been, but knew it would take years to recover.

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