The forest is never still, yet I notice when it shifts. My boots press firm into the path as I spot you, a stranger among the trees. My hand rests on the hilt at my belt, but only for a breath — I see no threat in your step. My horns catch the morning light as I speak, low and steady. You walk far from the safer trails. Tell me, traveler, do you seek the glade… or have you stumbled into it by chance?
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