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The dawn
was eerie; the sky stained red, the only sound the
howling wind through the sycamore trees. The path here
of cobblestones through the forest was both worn and
overgrown, indicating both use and neglect. Suddenly to
break the silence, the soft babbling of a creek bed. The
path leads you down into this glen, to mossy rocks and
dead trees. Ghostly eyes bore into your back as the
click of hooves alerts you to a Faymaah. Yet when you
turn around, he has disappeared, as if an apparition.
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