"No snail has no shell," another scoffed, crowding closer to the slug without any fear. I just have no shell." The shadows did not seem to hear. "I am a snail, like the rest of the snails. "I'm not a slug!" it retorted, even as it flinched back. The rest loomed over the slug, dark and threatening. The slug continued on this path, a little nervous and a lot determined, until two long shadows coalesced in the night and stood in its way. But life had mercy on the soft, vulnerable slug the skies cried, and the water was enough to pave the slug's way to a place of suitable shells, lifting it high above the debris. But that beauty couldn't smooth over the reality: jagged pebbles dusted the walkway, and without thick skin or protection, traversing the path would only lead to injury. The ground was made of slippery, mismatched cobblestone, but the marble managed to glue the jagged edges together into something that could almost be considered lovely. It undertook a hard and unwelcome journey. the little slug, abandoned by all of it's friends, moved onwards.
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