Doubts

 

I made a mistake

No wolves roam this land

No mortal can walk here

As I trudge through the frost-bitten wood

Leaves spun from dreams fall apon me

What have I done?

What have I killed?

And when I look down at the bleeding, rotting corpse

I think

"If no mortal can step foot in these trees

Or even see them for that matter,

Then what am I?

What am I, to be in a place

As ancient and magical as this?"

The End

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