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.