All of the women she saw were young, maybe her own age and they were white as the snow on the ground. They wore frosted head wreaths, some of fir pins and others of branches with berries, some even looked to be made entirely of silvery icicles that shined and glinted like diamonds. To a one, their skin was milky white and shimmered as though they’d all been sifted with fairy dust.
-Amanda V. Shane
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