MARF
Google
Lord knows how I love the Hills. Oldest mountains in North America (yes even older than the Appalachians). They have a soul that's hard to put into words. It's like the feeling inside when an animal trusts you and your friends completely. You'll have great times and have fun stories to tell but you also now have a responsibility to that animal. To protect it from those that would wish to do it harm. We have that responsibility, that obligation, to protect the Hills. It's a magical place, truly it is. There is a strangeness to the soul too. If you spend enough time in the Hills you'll end up with some stories that may be better left untold when little kids are present. Stories of that time things very quickly got far too quiet, when you felt watched, when you swear that was not like that an hour ago, when you hear a sound that couldn't have possibly been natural, when you hear your friend calling from just over the ridge in front of you but he's about 20 feet behind you. This may sound negative but I truly mean it when I say I wouldn't have it any other way. She is beautiful and mysterious and she gives and she takes and I love her all the same.