Ronald

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It was the cool morning that first greeted the hunter. The sun was as yellow as it had ever been. It gave off the sort of light that could do nothing except give life. Blood would be spilled under its shine regardless.

The hunter’s pads pressed against the spongy ground as he first began to loosen his tendons. He was a machine. Every strand of sinew and spire of fur served a purpose. All his pieces operated in unison as he set out on his gruesome goal.  Continue reading

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