Dearest Angel,
I am writing you from inside a carriage. The creaking of the wooden wheels as the wooden frame complaing of the weight of the passengers and our luggage. I have embarked on this journey to locate one of our more nefarious escapees. He has escaped into the countryside of this already isolated rural region in the forests of Northern Europe. This form of transport has been rejuvenated by the tourist industry, for those who seek a historic experience. Ha, you laugh? Yes, I see the irony as well, this countryside was once rampant with creatures and demonically possessed peasants as well as the insane aristocrats who sacraficed strangers as a matter of course, to preserve their way of life, whether it be agricultural sustainability, success in war, or preserving one’s youth.
As I stare out the cloth windows into the sunlit valley below the tree line, I reflect…
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