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... t should have been.

Its flames licked my ribs from within. My chest was a hearth and a furnace, a kiln that kept me warm in the dark. My hands and feet were cold. I had yet to hear of corpses that remained warm for long.

Is this death? I wondered. No heart pounded in my chest, nor did any pulse quicken my blood. My veins felt dust dry, my bones light as a feather. No breath escaped my mouth, nor did air fill my lungs. Am I dead?

I sensed freezing water flowing on my skin. ...

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