feuepine
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The bard walked along the path without hesitating or faltering, each step almost mechanical.
His cape did not flutter in the breeze as it normally did. The wind did not brush against his heels, asking him to run, to jump, to take flight.
It was all still.
He did not look around at the scenery, he did not walk leisurely to his destination.
He only had eyes for his next steps.