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I dream of flight.
Frantic, maddened by terror, I run, as hard and as fast as I can. The air is thick as water, choking, unyielding. My legs are slow. My feet fall, silent, ineffectual.
But I must run. Fear is everything. The unseen beast is at my heels. I feel its fiery breath on my shoulders, its cold, bleak hatred poisoning the air. Fear is everything, for it is fear, everything that ever made my heart race, my chest tighten.
I run. And when I can run no more, I fight.
I dream of battle.
I prefer the latter.

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