You take your Sickle and place it to your throat. You pray one last time. You ask that with this last sacrifice that the mist leave your village along. The you make of quick, strong movement. The last thing you feel is pain, and warmth on your chest. The last thing you hear is laughter and the sound of waves.
The mist moves. You move with it down the coast, Away from your village. They should be ok now. Not that you care. There are other villages to visit. You watch them. You creep to their windows and whisper things. Sometimes they join you to dance in the night. There is so much dancing to be done.
Your journey has ended, please email the code: QT-009
The mist moves. You move with it down the coast, Away from your village. They should be ok now. Not that you care. There are other villages to visit. You watch them. You creep to their windows and whisper things. Sometimes they join you to dance in the night. There is so much dancing to be done.
Your journey has ended, please email the code: QT-009