Lydia, the wildest of the girls, reminded me of a wolf-child; a moglie type, like she had been raised by a pack of beasts and learnt survival techniques in the jungle. She had the most endearing smile, and sad broken eyes. She lifted her face to mine, like she was begging me to free her, but had given up all hope of freedom at the exact same time. And her desperation almost robbed me of hope, until i remembered my God was the God of wild fatherless children just like the wild fatherless girl staring up at me now.
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