"Hoi ye heareth me?! I knoweth ye can heareth me! What's the meaning of this, Pitsalli Metstli?"
Exclamation of vexation, all because of confusion her mind trying to make sense all of this… to find herself running with all her might while out of breath, panting therefore was present with every pause of her vexed vocable… from a quiet tavern whose interior was less rumpus, to now find her weary self was lagging behind in the middle of a clearing ruckus with many creaking sounds of branches and the vibrancy of the whistling wind made the surrounding trees to oscillate in rhythm with the robust rustling of its remaining orange and red leaves… and there were only a few remain… for most already fell, littering the ground of a forest glade, burying deep the real muddy color of the ground with a color that was mixed naturally with orange and red,
