Möglicher Prolog?

Word in Progress

After hours and hours her cold fingers were still clutching the bracelet. She didn’t even know whom she was protecting it for, she would certainly not have any use for it herself. Every moment or the other she felt Death running his cold fingers down her spine, demandingly, impatiently. But it wasn’t yet time. “Wait”, she whispered, her fading breath barely visible in the cold air. “You have to wait some more.”
Soon she would hear the sound of branches cracking under the steps of unsteady feet, the calls of a worried man, looking not for her.
She would know then, why she had kept the bracelet all that time. When she would be found, when she would be most gently lifted, when his eyes would be meeting hers, she would speak under her dying breath the last words ever coming out of a fairy’s mouth: “It was Mirella’s. You should have it, she would have wanted you to. I could not save her, I am sorry. Please know, that I love you, I always have.” And with that she would close her tear-filled eyes, finally giving in to the unflinching grip of Death, letting herself drift away into the depth of sweet oblivion.

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