4″you have been walking for days. You’re cold and weary, gnawing on the last remaining dried fruit you have and you’re getting desperate. There’s nothing but snow here, no beast anywhere. But it feels like something’s watching you. A twig snaps and you take aim with your bow, ready to shoot, when a man, hair and skin as white as snow, shows himself. His emerald eyes are curious who are you? What are you doing in my Forrest?
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