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The Vagabond Prince, Enchanted Forest
At first innocent as purple-popsicle lips and pine needles, the forest has always beckoned, since we were very young and all that it contained at its darkest heart was a witch. Then we grew up and learned to see more clearly in the dark. The sweetest berries sting on the finish but that won’t stop us from gathering them by the handful despite the brambles and the burn. Let the juice run over your chin and down your wrists. Love singes and love stains. We’ll take our chances down that tangled path.