Nightfall casts a shadow over the path in the woods.

Dusk caresses the last of the daylight before releasing her from her duties.

Tiny creatures of sky and earth retire, for their day is done.

The wind sends a steady whir whir through the trees’ leaves and branches.

A young woman, alone and determined, tries to light the way.

She twists her fingers and rolls her wrists in a tight motion

Harnessing the very last of the rays to illuminate her path.

A quick snap breaks her concentration, her heart skips a beat.

The light – it is gone.

She looks over her shoulder just as the sun bids her final adieu.

Suddenly, alone feels exceptionally alone.

The gift of sight has gone and now she must rely on her other senses.

She smells a mixture of sweet summer flowers and muddy earth.

She feels branches scratch against her bare flesh when she passes.

She hears the sound of wolves crying and prey hiding.

And somehow, alone starts to feel like home.

The light may be gone, but she’s clever enough to know

That the sun will return for tomorrow’s performance

So she must make it through one night of darkness.

The light may be gone

But the path still beckons her to follow.

Wild and unafraid, she meets the darkness

The path will not be abandoned.

She is neither the first nor the last to walk it

Courageous women have often walked

Alone and in darkness, on the path.

The light outside may be gone

But the light inside burns strong.

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