Cold Iron and Pixie Dust: Step Into The Faerie Realm
The pre-summer evening is balmy, the croaking of bullfrogs heard in the distance. Far beyond your line of sight, where trees tower above and around you like silhouetted giants. You curse at yourself for foolishly not bringing your lantern with you or one of your companions who can see in the night-time with relative ease. But you are lost all alone, with merely star and moon light to dimly illuminate your path.
The howls of wolves echoe loud and clear, as if sensing your growing ease and nervous nature. A single wolf you could outsmart. A pack was another thing completely, and you hoped that it was not a group of Death Dogs.
Fumbling with the ring around yourleft middle finger, you leap over a sapling which seems to have been ripped up and its roots exposed to the world. Something might have made it it’s home, or a…
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