Literature
The Face of Death Itself chp 5
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Merlin didn't know exactly where he was going. He had spent the night curled inward on the top of the hill, rain pouring down mercilessly. In the morning, he just walked through the woods, steering clear of roads and paths in order to avoid human contact. They were his problems and he wanted to deal with them alone, he didn't want to burden anyone else. Each step brought him deeper into the greenery, shrouded in the thick fog of morning. Thoughts filled his head, dark thoughts. Thoughts of friends and foes, love and hate, good and evil. What's the difference anymore? Merlin shook his head bitterly. These are all the same, and a
