You see a man up ahead, his voice singsong and deep as he speaks in a lilted melody while walking along the meadow path. He sings "Twas Brillig And the slithy toves Did gyre and gimble in the wabe All mimsy were the borogoves And the mome raths outgrabe" The man takes notice of you and chuckles coyly, a mischievous glint in his eye. "And what have we here?"
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