They’re cattle, I thought. Dumb, penned-in cattle.

I think I can hear them coming.

It’s only a matter of time.

No one is exempt from punishment.

I lay on the grave of my mother.

The quiet ones always know more than they let on.

The darkness seeps further into Morkwood.

It’s not even broken.

I suppose you all better get ready to run.

There is fear in the night for those who scorn the festivities of Morkwood.