roots and lush green that overreached the path's confines. Her movements were quick and assured, as if the very earth beneath her was an old friend whispering the way forward.

"Rigel, slow down a bit!" Raquel’s voice, tinged with the mirth of a mother's enduring patience, wove through the verdant tapestry of the path, seeking to temper her daughter's brisk pace.

Suddenly, Raquel's attention was drawn to a stain marring the hem of her dress—a splotch of earth unwelcome against the fabric. With an instinct as old as time, she plucked a leaf heavy with dew from an overhanging branch to dab away the offense. Yet, in her attentiveness to the dress, Raquel's balance was betrayed by a sudden, forceful clash, and with grace abandoned, she succumbed to the pull of gravity, her body...

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