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Holly felt helpless and alone. She was cold and stiff from standing still. The mist closing in was creepy. She peered down the rapidly disappearing track, wondering if she should follow everyone.
"I can't stay here," she mused out loud. "The tide will cut me off." She stepped onto the track.
Her toe kicked a small stone. It rolled before her, black, shiny and perfectly round.
Holly picked it up. It was a bead, a polished jet bead.
