There’s a different kind of creature that ascends from the mountains during the night than the one more commingly associated with human nature. It spirals down the canyons leaving cold breezes, singed trees and white water rapid tips on it’s way to the city. Modern day local residents may have grown accustomed to it, but if he’s out the man in the moon still turns a blind eye and perhaps, but it’s just a guess, stares directly into the sun to take a moment and shore up any sympathy he might have for the inhabitants down below.
There’s no wonder little has ever been done to stop blood feuding. Two sides bent on revenge scarcely see the light of day, how is one supposed to point out the errors of thier ways.
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