Answer:
I am the kind of a tree that is carried in your hand. What am I?
In your fire you hear me scream creaking and whining yet I am dead before you lay me in your hearth.
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I love to twist and dance. Though wingless, I fly high up into the sky. What am I?
I spend most of my day eating white. When I am quick enough I get rewarded with fruit and something blue. In a dark room with blue walls I run from the ghosts that roam the halls
Runs over fields and woods all day. Under the bed at night sits not alone, With long tongue hanging out, Resting at your feet until we go for a walk