My brothers and sisters always tease me. I can’t swim as fast as they do though, my little legs never pushing as hard as theirs through the water. It comes at no surprise that I am the last one to leave home. When I do, I proudly pull myself out of the wet hole with my new arms, ready to join the others. I can’t see them but I follow their calls from the nearby forest. As I crawl and hop with glee across the grass, I don’t see the raven above me until its beak closes around my neck.
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alt="The Things We Fight For by Liam Hogan"
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height="630"
>
sizes="(min-width: 1200px) 550px, (min-width: 750px) calc((100vw - 130px) / 2), calc((100vw - 50px) / 2)"
alt="Greetings from Down Under by Kristin Lennox"
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>
sizes="(min-width: 1200px) 550px, (min-width: 750px) calc((100vw - 130px) / 2), calc((100vw - 50px) / 2)"
alt="Listen to Your Insides by Michelle Brett"
class="motion-reduce"
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width="1200"
height="630"
>
sizes="(min-width: 1200px) 550px, (min-width: 750px) calc((100vw - 130px) / 2), calc((100vw - 50px) / 2)"
alt="See you Soon by S.M. Sykes"
class="motion-reduce"
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height="630"
>
