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“After working for 3 years and three days, Prim lastly got here to a tumbling halt. No matter how far she ran, irrespective of how briskly her legs carried her, she couldn’t discover the top of the highway. No matter how she scanned the horizon, or reached out with trembling fingers, she couldn’t grasp her resting place. The highway continued eternally.
There was a way-angel there, standing on a pillar of basalt, who understood many issues, and he mentioned to Prim: ‘O piteous factor.” Struck by her dreadful look, he acknowledged her because the orphan of Hansa, for he was very clever on the planet. ‘What search you on the highway, small one?’ mentioned the angel, “Perhaps I can offer succor.”
“The end of the road,” croaked Prim.
“There is no end,” mentioned the angel, and it was so certainly. For the highway was the rim of the Wheel, which encircled infinity. There was, actually no resting place. For some, this could have been dread information, sufficient to strike the life out of them. Many had given up once they realized of this, and laid down to die, as was typically the way in which of males in these days.
But for Prim, it washed over her, and soothed her, and for her weary and torn coronary heart was the sweetest balm on the planet.”
-Prim Masters the Road
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