Starlight. Star. Bright.
Glistening with sweat, Boranadorous Melkiridale Fes bent over, breathing hard.
Looking back, over the trees, the black smoke piled higher and higher into the sky.
My people. My family.
“Sung a little one. Over the hills, far away. Sung a great long song. Under the hills, right unnnn-derrr.”
Boran jumped. So close. How could she be so close.
She – the Monster under beds, the Lady who never dreams, the Fairy Who Walks – had butchered every one of his family, every one of his village, and laughed while watching Boran run.
“Sung a little one. Booooorrrrrrraaaaaannnnnnnn.”
She comes.
Boran stopped. He would end this now, one way or another.
“Come out monster. Come out, come out, where-ever you are.”
And the Lady came out.
And the battle was fought.
And the victor sang a little one.
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