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Created on: February 14, 2008
I am he that clatters in the night,
The echo of hooves in the stable,
He that howls with the wind,
Alone I travel amongst you.
Death has returned me,
The rain has wet my tongue.
Split three ways the Ancients tore me,
Casting out all that was a burden,
Casting out all that was weak,
Defining the Wanderer again.
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