Once more with feeling

Bryn could feel the huge crayfish scrabbling over his feet as the wreckage of the biplane sank deeper into the marsh, and he shivered, naked except for his mother’s welding helmet, his chest coated evenly with the last of the Vaporub, his arms wrapped tightly around the dead lion. His eyes streamed with tears. Every sodding Christmas, he thought. Every sodding Christmas.

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