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Roylsden #78


Solemn is the grey dawn in the land where there is no land. The air here is wet with mountain mist, enough to veil everything and shine my skin with moisture.
Here there is nothing: not in the distance, not nearby, not at my feet.
Until a shape emerges.
A black silhouette of an elk, slowly approaching.
The closer it gets the more the shape changes, until it becomes the outline of a young woman.
And then the young woman stands beside me. She is tall, full breasted with long black hair braided to her waist.
She wears beaded deerskin.

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