"Wood?" Jönis staggered forward, trying to make sense of the scene before him. The broken, blackened trunk jutted out of the snow, so thick he couldn’t see the other side, its length vanishing into the night. A lunar sequoia.
Jönis’ eyes burned. He’d loved hiking in the great sequoia forests of Montes Pyrenaeus, what seemed like ages ago. Unfettered by Earth’s gravity, they’d soared to impossible heights, piercing the sky itself. Now, however... now they were mere splintered stumps and charred limbs.
The irony that the rewrite is taking as much effort and time as writing an entirely new story is not lost upon me. This is due in no small part to whole sections being jettisoned and rewritten from scratch, since now my protagonist has a consistent viewpoint and motivation. If I'd have figured that out to begin with, it'd have saved me a lot of hassle.
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