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On a dull, shabby morning, when the haze had overwhelmed, and the sun has acknowledged its thrashing, I happen to walk the minimal known way. The way appeared to be lost in the unfathomable region as though it has been composed off from pages of recollections. The woods noticed crisp, blue was the tone, and as I walked around, I was lost in considerations of the warriors of the area.

Fearless must be them, who had once strolled along this way. A little trail, with an unending compass of marshland around, prompting the regularly finishing woods in front. I was strolling through the fog, and the puzzle was touching my faculties. A spot so noiseless, yet I could hear the life beating in it. Who claims this immeasurable area, whose orders does this spot comply. What a warrior soul that should be who moves around in this stillness.

A sudden stir in the hedge, and I could sense their vicinity. Who might it be able to be, what structure it would be off? Would it an excellent lion lord, or would be the red hot tiger? Then again might it be able to be the stalker panther?

Brilliant skin moved, the haze played me a bonehead, and it played find the stowaway. What do you call that vibe when you sense its vicinity, yet faculties neglect to interpret it. I don’t have the foggiest idea.

At that point at the most distant end of the street, I saw them. Astounded, this was not what I expected by awareness. I let out a full breath as though to let out my failure. They heard and turned. Furthermore, with the looks which must be called as witty, they replied.

I wager it’s their fortification. The spot where they are conceived; this is the place they rest at long last.

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