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Monday, October 30th, 2006 07:22 pm (UTC)
he sounds like he did when he was eight and they found that little dead fawn along the side of the road. Soft, dappled flank and blood threading from its nose and Dean had just taken his hand and led him away.

Why I dig your writing: it's sensory; there are details like the one above that have us in the boys' heads; you can write plot and character and dialogue and description. All in the same fic!

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