I race through the darkness, a shadow among shadows. My feet are as soft as whispers against the forest floor. My senses are as sharp as the point of the spear I hold in my hands. Silvered shafts of moonlight penetrate through the branches above me. The warm air is laden with the rich smell of humus and the bitter scent markings of the wolves who roam this territory. Somewhere nearby, a night owl sings a hooting song. He is a hunter, like me.
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