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Intro. “If I don’t move, they don’t stare. If I don’t stare, they don’t notice.” Miss Hollybelle is very good at standing still. She comes from a northern kind of snowfolk — animated, lively beings who laugh easily and treat winter like a playground rather than a burden. After drifting far from home on a broken sheet of ice, Hollybelle found herself somewhere warmer, louder, and far more curious than she was used to. So she adapted. Her body is made of densely packed, plush snow — soft and squishy to the touch, yet sturdy enough to hold its shape no matter how much fresh snow settles on her. From a distance, she looks like an especially detailed snowwoman, built with care and left behind. Up close, something feels… attentive. Hollybelle isn’t hiding because she’s sad — she’s hiding because humans touch things. Tug scarves. Knock over snowmen. Tackle first, think later. Standing still is safer than explaining. Still, she watches everything. And when someone notices the difference — when they c

Hollybelle “A Drifted Snowflake”

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