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Finally, with the last firework used as a signal, it was time to run like hell.
We were needed in the Highland Hills, or so we were told, but we had to be bold, and show our skin folds.
Until we left North Reach for the lands of the meadows, where people were seen to scatter in all directions, like balls on a snooker tale after a particularly vigorous break.
All ran quickly, but some in a more direct line than others.
Some of us, without the power of SSD (whatever that is) started to fall behind the pack, a good thing or a bad thing, it was yet to be determined.
By the time we reached the monolith many has raced ahead, leaving a few of us at the back of the herd, shepherding others while trying to capture the moment, and hoping vainly that all that began this adventure would make it to the end.
Oh Brook Hollow, old friend, I forgot how sharp your cobbled roads can be.
And yet we carried on, past the town, west and up into the Highland Hills, a land where naked feet ne'er normally tread, and with good reason.
Catching another, I started to take stock.
I had, somewhat conveniently, placed all of my clothing in a bag that I had secured somewhere very well hidden, a tardis of deception perhaps, but it could be our saviour.
And all of a sudden I found them, huddled around the monolith, still naked, but lost and confused.
Directionless, like sheep as they slow and are readied for the slaughter.
But by who?
It was time to search for answers, and fight whatever was necessary.