Ten years he has been coming up to the White Mountains. Ten long years of toiling the burden of capitalism to further his own goals and dreams.
Tonight though he looks for something more, a late afternoon hike to venture into.
 The White Mountain trails of the Apache.
Among the bear and elk that rule this forest he steps. Eyes are constantly darting to and fro, he asks for protection from the Indian Gods. A black shape appears in the distance…
“an elk maybe? surely not a bear this close to town…”
He laughs as the cow comes into the clearing, followed by the rest of the herd.
Dark clouds start to take ominous form, thunder rumbles in the distance, getting closer.
A large rustle is heard close to him.
Looking up, the sun is setting fast, darkness is making it’s way to bed in the trees. Quickly he makes his way along the trail in the diminishing light, the chanting of the Apache growing loud as night settles in.
The carnival of the animals can now begin.

Wench, bring my ale, what say you?

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