The tall grass in the field sways when the wind goes over it.
The tall grass in the field sways when a creature passes through it.
The mountains look on, impassive, peaks cloaked by mist.
People wear paths where they tread. And generation after generation follow those same footsteps.
The tall grass in the field sways when the wind goes over it.
The tall grass in the field sways when a creature passes through it.
The mountains look on, impassive, peaks cloaked by mist.
Michael Scott Hand 