The wind was ragged, pulling and tugging at MossFelt's hair as a small child does in play. Her horse steadily trudged forward through the wind engulfed path, it's head sinking lower and lower to the ground in a attempt to fight off the coming current. She placed a small hand upon her head in a effort to keep her long curling locks from her fragile face but with little luck. The heavens seemed agitated and no wonder with the going war.
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Thalnil
