““At twilight, people came searching for her and she bit her hand to keep from calling for help. She grew numb from the cold and could no longer move her legs or arms. Watching the starry winter sky she fell asleep. Her hair grew flat and brittle and grew endlessly, curling out through her fists, unable to contain it. Her hair fell in among the plants and fallen leaves that blanketed the forest floor, worming its way through the earth and taking root as new plants, tiny shafts stuck in dirt cracks like melted pins — translucent beings yearning for the light. Her eyes closed and she died in all her dreams. She sat up, holding her hand in front of her face she watched as the nails grew long and unwieldy, curling around and around her hand, freezing it open. She had two traps for hands —””
