I am in a forest at twilight. Gentle chirps of night birds waft through the trees. Insects join in, creating a rhythmic auditory pattern. I feel calm and breathe in the night smells as all of the forest creatures prepare for rest. I cannot remember a time of when I felt so at ease and so comfortable. The ground beneath my body hugs me in a gentle embrace.
I stare at the sky. Purples, blues and reds streak across the sky like a child's haphazard painting. I hear footfalls of some sort moving through the forest. I attempt to rise, but I am unable. The ground - the oh so comfortable ground- refuses to release its hold on me. I struggle. More footfalls are heard. And growling.
I realize a cloak is about my shoulders and around my neck. The cloak holds me to the ground. It pulls me to the earth. The more I struggle the tighter it wraps around my throat. A wolf howls. Many other answer in kind. I feel the warmth of my urine soaking my garments - soaking the cloak.
I feel the wolves breath on my skin, but they remain unseen. I scream. The cloak pulls tighter choking off my cries.
My urine soaks into the earth, becoming a part of the land. The dirt soaks into my flesh, becoming a part of me. The wolves, unseen, circle about me snapping and nipping at my exposed flesh. My breath is almost gone. I am losing myself to the land, to the cloak, and to the fear.
"I am King," I rasp.
"Only while you live," The wind whispers. "Kings become ash and dust as easily as peasants - especially unworthy Kings."
Tears flow, dripping in the earth. "I am worthy?" I cry to the trees and the sky, looking for affirmation. "Do not take over my body, dear earth."
"A true King must be bound to the earth - to land he rules - to truly be worthy of the crown," the crickets sing.
My eyes snap open. Candles flicker. I am resting on a bed. A figure sits beside me.
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