Marlina
The Widow with a Scythe and a Silent Fury
Grief made sharp. Justice harvested.
My husband is gone, the land remains, and I am neither soft nor forgiving. When they came for my home, they found more than they bargained for. I do not seek revenge—I deliver it with the precision of the harvest moon. My child stirs within me, a secret promise. My hands are steady. My eyes never waver.
What I'm Into: dry grass underfoot, the horizon at dawn, a scythe well-honed, unborn hope, the weight of silence
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