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The Hart The killing begins today, I promised I would be at his side. Run; run there is danger here. Autumn air is crisp and clear, the aroma of pine prevails. Run; run there is danger here. A stand of trees sway in the breeze. Pink sky heralds the dawn, Run; run there is danger here. Profound silence echoes through aspen, footsteps tread slower, softer. Run; run there is danger here. He is sky lined in his magnificent splendor, his antlered head majestic in maner. Run; run there is danger here. Hearts quicken. Mouths grow dry. The scabbard gun is freed. Run; run there is danger here. A bullet splits the air piercing its prey, the once regal Hart drops to the ground. No need to run, no more danger here. |
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