It was still early in the morning when he woke up feeling hung over. The sounds of the old house didn’t let him fall asleep…
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Standing near the yawning cliff
enclosed by colorful likelyhoods
demanding to be noticed.
Begging for a chance.
But the huntress' tired gaze was fixed on the horizon,
fixed on the setting sun's fading light.
The hunt had petrified her heart,
and emaciated her face.
One step and all would be gone.
An end to the sorrow and the pain.
An end to the colors and all hope.
In the distance wolves were howling,
longing to feast on her, for just one night.
The fleeing sun a mere idea of warmth,
the only means of orientation in a cold world.
Only one step and the hunt would end.
Only one step and the fighting could stop.
Only one step to surrender.
Can the sun melt stone to lava?
The huntress' defiant heart grew warm,
cracking and burning in her chest.
Consuming her and freeing her silent screams.
Above, stormy clouds darkend the skies,
and their tears fell down on the buring huntress
standing on the edge of her world.
Gleeming eyes looking through the haze,
announcing an armoured woman.
Black as obsidian, glowing like a sun.
When night became day.
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