The morning was near, as I, old De Lacy shroud a blanket over my shoulders, grabbed my guitar and hobbled to a seat outside. The winter’s air was cold and wet; it worked its way through layers of clothing, attacking any uncovered skin with slashes of ___. The more I moved, the more heat I lost, so I sat, warming to the day as I gathered my thoughts on the events of yesterday.
As I sat there the morning sun opened upon the land; its warmth spread over the surface, forcing the cold of night outwards, away to the heavens. My fingers below me moved through the strings of my guitar, performing a slow dance along the instrument. The notes combined into a stream, a flowing and gentle pulse. The music spread forth into the forest as a breeze, blissful and calm. Warmth flooded through my whole as I brought life into the dead silence of the early winter morning. For the forest was quiet; no animals awoke, the trees were motionless and the birds spared their illustrious voices. The vibrant sounds and smells of new life in spring had long passed.
Inside, a door opened on its worn hinges, its harsh sound splitting the peaceful silence of the forest. Planted steps echoed through
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For I am completely hindered in my capability to keep the ones I love from danger, now knowing that a daemon lurks nearby. I yearn for my family to live peacefully in safety, assured that the happiness of each other’s company rests firm for many years. I have spent long hours of the night overlooking our safety, devising a proposition for the morning. So, with much haste I propose that we depart today. We are vulnerable here and as such I shall not stand to live in the fear of losing my family. I recognise the difficulty of the process, but an evasion from death’s grasp will avail the feat. Do you recognise my urgency? For if we remain here, we are as dead branches; flimsy and weak. With ease, the monster will open up his horrid hands and pluck us from our