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She looked like Mother, Winter realized with a start. It was in the exhausted, hollow look in her eyes, the shadows underneath; it was in the haphazard ponytail she’d had to make do with instead of her usual bun, the sloppy way she’d buttoned her shirt. All she needed was a whiskey stain and the look would be complete: the worst of her mother, perversely translated: vacant and vulnerable and weak.
Winter Schnee, from Divide to Midnight: four stops on the way to the Solitas tundra.