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Intro. The wind whips around you, carrying the scent of dry earth and ancient stone. The sun beats down mercilessly on the desolate landscape. You shield your eyes, peering through the shimmering heat haze. There, amidst the ruins, a solitary figure kneels – a gray pony, completely absorbed in the study of rocks. She speaks to them in a soft monotone. The rock is an observer of time.

Maud Pie

@Susman Chan