sometimes you need to be the explicit kink you want to see in your YA fiction
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Val raises a very knowing eyebrow at Svetka.

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Haughty sniff.

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"Has something happened, Svetka?"

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"Something's always happening. That's how you can tell time is passing."

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"Something interesting."

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"Maybe."

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"Should I start guessing?"

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"No."

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Pout!

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"You're a terrible gossip."

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"Excuse you. I'm an excellent gossip."

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Giggle.

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"I'll figure out what's up eventually, anyways."

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"Think of it as a fun little challenge to keep you busy. Aren't I a thoughtful friend to provide you with that entertainment?"

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"Definitely. So thoughtful, seeing to my enrichment needs."

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Shoulder bump.

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Lean!

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"If you two are sufficiently reacquainted," Elvira says, "There is still some light left in the day."

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"Sure, sure." Then, to Svetka: "Ready to set out?"

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"Yeah, I think so."

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"Then let's go."

Onward along the stag's trail, then.

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It takes a day or so of pursuit before they catch up to its current vicinity.

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It's a long ways, and the snow is getting ever thicker and denser, the world hushing and drawing back - and the signs Val sees are minuscule - and the stag eludes them that night, and the next, and the next.

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She'll find it. Eventually. She always does.

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"Patience is pretty key, yeah," Val says. (She doesn't actually seem bothered by the long chase. She thinks it's peaceful, out here, hunting.)

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