To you, One Who Tries Again, death is a toothless creature, long past its prime. Yet for those who do not share your present, it was the apex of the apex. An unassailable predator, its grip absolute, until I pried that first soul from its clutches.
It was a happy accident, borne of desperation. Death, that inescapable hunter, closed in on its lonely prey and I couldn't bear the sight. I tried to pry its jaws open, but I had no hands. So blindly, I thrashed and cried for help until I stumbled upon her, one who could be those hands. One who could give that person more than I ever could.
My thoughts grasped her thread and tugged. Without knowing how, I pulled her back into the world for a second chance, and death lost its first tooth.