You are dreaming, but it is not your dream. This place is foreign in many ways, but uncomfortably familiar in others. Houses, carts, fences...upturned and shattered across dusty, broken streets. It's a dream, but you can feel the harsh wind tug at your sleeves and disturb the ashes of what were once homes and the strange people therein. You can
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It calls out. ]
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What's the word from the skies, friend?
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The land is twisted for miles out. It is not a friendly place.
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Do you know the region well? I cannot smell the limbs of Falara from this place.
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I do not. And I'm unfamiliar with your Falara. This.. feels much like a dream.
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beat.
nothing happens.]
...Perhaps it takes practice.
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Why do you call out so sad, boy?
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Too much death. Too much pain and sorrow. It hurts.
[His hands grip the fabric of his shirt over his heart. It is thundering in his chest. It hurts. He mourns.]
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Don't let yourself be afraid.
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I am afraid. No one protected them. They're all gone, humans and beasts and insect, even the grass is scorched.
Who was protecting them...
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Don't let it overwhelm you. The grass will grow new, humans and beasts and insect will return.
There will be protectors. They won't let this happen, not again.
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