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High above the world, where the clouds tickle the peaks, lived Tenzin. He was a dragon, but not a scary one. He was as soft as a cloud and loved the quiet hum of the mountain. He dreamed of being a monk who helped others find their path.
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One chilly evening, a thick mist rolled over the rocks. A little traveler in a red scarf stumbled along the path, shivering. The mist was heavy and gray. Everything looked the same, and the path was hard to see. The traveler felt lost and very small.
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