The Dweller of The Hills and Woodland.

Up on the downs,
in amongst the looming grass,
your almond eyes watching.
The angry, bloodthirsty world
at your tail.
See through the fog,
see through the trees and
run.
Run.
Run.
Run.
Though your enemies may be in their thousands,
little prince of the woodland and the warren;
your bones are fearless and everlasting.
So, go over the green fields, through the fog,
follow Inlé, on,
and run.
Run.
Run.
Run.

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