There is a dark gloom settling upon the field. The hay tastes like something I cannot fathom, an unknown substance. Maybe it is blood, the blood of ancestors with horns and tails.
We all come from some sort of evil and it is inside us until the day we meet our maker in the great beyond. The wolf howls at midnight.
Still, with winter coming you would think the smells, the sounds the essence would be somehow muted. It is not muted. The sounds ring in my ears. I do not voice my concerns, I keep them inside. The challenge will be to overcome my fears and climb the obstacles to the highest pinnacle I can reach.
Fear invades my very loins, but it does not conquer me. Oh no. It would take far more than a confusing panoply of mirages to defeat my spirit. I perservere. You may kill me, but you will not defeat me in my quest.
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