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A swift moving wolf runs across the open field picking up the morning dew and leaving but a faint trail of mist in his wake. From The distance most people would guess that the wolf was tracking his next prey, but a hunter could tell that this wolf was not on the trail of any prey. He was heading somewhere in a hurry. Finally the wolf comes over the last hill and sees it. As the wolf looks over Qeynos Hills memories begin to flood his mind, memories of his childhood in this little valley, and he whispers under his breathe, more to himself then to anyone else, I am home... Read More |
