Mon
A hoof smashed through an old rotten log in the roughage of the forest floor. The large black horse was galloping at a tremendous rate almost in a hurry to reach its final destination. The rider and horse were draped in all black and even though the rider was quite timid in physical appearance he had almost a great power in his aura. Even though the rider was travelling at such a great speed it was what seemed like hours before he reached his final destination. The rider dismounted with an air of caution and lifted his hood from around his face. He was a young man but with experiences beyond his years. In front of the rider was a large clearing in the dismal symmetrical forestry everywhere else. In the centre was a large willow with no leaves and a blackened bark. “So here it is, the oracle, the tree of mon”.
