Northstar Vale ich bin nur in einer furcht

His eyes were a flutter; everything seemed impossibly distant. Heat raged in below his pelt as the stranger loked at his battered state in awe. He struggled to compose himself mentally and physically, but emotions wrang his words like a noose. ❝I don't know . . . I had —,❞ he breathes in a long breath as his eyes water in pain, ❝. . . arisen in waters.❞  The frail frame faintly lift their dropping eyelids depite hardship and loss of breath,  the wrongly stricken illustrate the smooth face and powerful body of his perplexed onlooker. With delusional stupor, he realized he was like him. Greater and weathered, yes, but somewhat like him. That dulling sharptooth betrayed the portrait, making the stricken victim blink in semi-jaded awe.

❝You . . . are like me. We are one in the same, yes?❞  he muses to none yet the bane of winter hears it still. His chest dramatically rises and falls like velvet, crimson curtains, ribs etching his frame. It seemed as if the frail boy took another they impale him from the inside, protruding like the elder roots of an oak tree. He smooths over ruined lips with a little wet tongue as he continues, the edges of his vision tilting; failing:

❝ Do you know who I am? I . . . do not.❞