Treacherous hills and fallen branches. Light from the moon, howls from the wind. The trail ends to a blanket of leaves dense with trees as far as they allow me to see. Where will my next step bring me, to a field where one man once reigned. Battle ensued, a valley of ashes is now the past. A burial site soiled with families, a family remembered by a wound on a tree. The crest, sword raised, the call of battle. The map sketched among the wounded tree now filled of sap and the memory of all the children this family lost.Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
