Walking through shadowed woods,
Hearing a low keening,
Icicle fingers down my spine,
Scared beyond all feeling.
Peering into the fog ahead,
Eyes of gold are glowing,
Rustles sound off the side of the road
Silence.
Hearing a low keening,
Icicle fingers down my spine,
Scared beyond all feeling.
Peering into the fog ahead,
Eyes of gold are glowing,
Rustles sound off the side of the road
Silence.
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