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Frozen River

By Helen Harrington / November 5, 1992



The small river ran as fast ever it could, its plan to escape the clever cold. The river as quick as a fox darted and swerved among trees and rocks, dashed and curved around hills, a shiver crawling up its spine. But the sun did not shine and the swift winds rose and bayed their white breath all night, and the river froze.

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