The trees are bare; so are the bones of the land. The leaves rustle underfoot. The day is bright even in the forest. Under the moon and stars, the night shimmers and the trails into the woods gleam softly.
Seen through a mile or so of tangled silver branches, the horizon beckons. I wonder about the wild lands, and what lies beyond the old well-trodden paths...
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...down to the water to see the elves dance and sing upon the midsummer's eve.
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