Excerpt from Otto of the Silver Hand
Beyond these squalid huts lay the rushing, foaming river, spanned by a high, rude, stone bridge where the road from the castle crossed it, and beyond the river stretched the great, black forest, within whose gloomy depths the savage wild beasts made their lair, and where in winter time the howling wolves coursed their ying prey across the moonlit snow and under the net-work of the black shadows from the naked boughs.
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