Of hiking boots, trail mix, and things that want to kill me.

by uTTerAbsurdity

Prologue - A flashback and a fight.

~~Somewhere in the Rocky Mountains~~

Bright.

But of course, most sunrises are.

Even more so considering the fact that “sleeping under the stars” means that there is no tent in the way to block out the blinding light.

He planted one hand squarely over his eyes and pulled himself into a sitting position. From there, he rolled over onto his hands and knees and slowly stood up. He grabbed his canteen and strolled over to the cliff edge, gazing down at the valley that he would be hiking through today. From his high vantage point, he could make out the field on the far side of the valley, about a half-day hike out. Sighing, he turned back to his camp, simultaneously preparing breakfast as well as his mind for the trek the day would hold.

~-_-~-_-~-_-~

As the trail finally began to level out he let out a huge sigh of relief.

“Downhill is much nicer than uphill.” He thought to himself. “But flat beats hilly any day.”

Looking behind him, he retraced his path down the steep switchbacks that scarred the side of the precipice. The ache in his legs, quick to remind him of the ordeal he had just finished, brought his mind back to the present. He turned back around and continued on with his hike.

With nothing better to do while he walked, he began to reminisce about the life he lead. He had always been a pretty independent child, often preferring to play by himself than with the other children at school. Junior high and High school had both flown by in a rush of learning but, not surprisingly, did not leave him with any lasting friendships. The closest he had ever come to a true friendship was when he had teamed up with a classmate to play a co-op videogame together for two whole days before beating it. But of course, as is sadly often the case with sudden friendships, as time went on they lost track of each other, neither contacting the other until that bond from the video game was forgotten entirely.

After high school, he continued on into college. Unfortunately, he was not rich in any sense of the word, so he had to have his parents pay for much of his education. His parents, they were the bright memory in a sea of loneliness. They had always been there for him, always supported him through whatever he did.

He had been a Boy Scout for about 8 years of his life which was also where he found his love of the outdoors. During his time as a scout, he remembered, he worked as hard as he could to learn all there was to know about camping and backpacking; he even became quite proficient in first aid, a skill that had come in handy more times than he would have liked. However, there was one thing from his past that very nearly rivaled his love and appreciation of the outdoors. That one thing was the skills he gained from studying kendo.

As an early teen, his father had seen an ad in the newspaper about a program consisting of various Japanese martial arts, one of which was kendo. He quickly went and found his son and told him about this opportunity. Without missing a beat the boy bounced up and down repeatedly, simply bubbling with excitement. The very next week, the kid, now robed in the clothing provided by the instructor, was standing in line with twenty-seven other boys and girls just like him who were eager to learn martial arts. As the lessons continued, he learned self-control as well as how to properly wield a sword. But one day, his lessons turned very interesting.

~-_-~-_-~-_-~

CRACK!

The noise, loud as a gunshot, quickly silenced everyone present. There the young boy stood, legs slightly shaking, under the shadow cast by one of the older boys. Each of the students had been paired up to practice sparring and as their mock fight carried on, the young boy and his older counterpart eagerly began to intensify their actions. It continued like this for a few minutes until the older one, with a surge of adrenaline, drew his wooden sword back over his head and brought it swinging down with all the strength he could muster. Acting on instinct, the younger one brought his own wooden sword up, hands grasping opposite ends. As the sticks contacted, the one wielded by the older one managed to hit the other sword hard enough to make it actually snap in half, thus causing the loud noise that drew everyone’s attention.

The older one was staring down at his partner with looks of horror and apology playing across his face but to everyone’s surprise, the younger one was gazing intently on his broken sword. An idea played through his head and stepping back, he threw the top part of his sword aside, maintaining his hold on the handle with about a foot and a half of the sword itself. By sheer accident, he now, instead of the katana imitations like his classmates, had a short sword. Swinging it back and forth, he found that he liked the balance and the added speed with which he could move it. Setting his feet, he asked to continue the spar.

With a yell, he charged, swinging his sword in a wide arc; too late, he remembered that his sword was now two feet shorter than he had gotten used to. He missed spectacularly and the momentum from his swing spun him off to the side until he tripped over his feet and fell. He picked himself back up and dusted off his clothes, readying himself and remembering that he had to compensate for the loss of reach. But before he could advance again, the signal was given to end the session also indicating that the class was finished for the day. Turning to his instructor, he asked if he could practice his sparring with him, holding up his makeshift short sword. The man nodded, signifying his consent. They went at it well into the evening for many days in a row so that by the end of it the young student could handle his smaller weapon just as well as he could his previous, larger one.

When it came time for graduation, the kid had risen to be one of the top students of his class. And rightly so as he had proven himself rather proficient with a short blade; he had beaten most of his fellow students at least once. Standing in line with the other graduates, he recalled a particularly fond memory of one of his recent spars with his instructor. The whole class had started using real swords, carefully of course, and he had seen his dad using a machete to chop off sticks from a fallen tree branch the day before. The result was the kid bringing in his dad’s machete as his “short sword.” In the engagement that followed, the instructor was impressed; the machete seemed to be perfect in every way for the kid. That same machete was now strapped to the kid’s waist as he waited for his turn to be recognized. Every graduate of the program was given the sword they had trained with as a gift, so of course, as the machete belonged to the kid’s father, the gift became that much more specia-

~-_-~-_-~-_-~

The sensation of his right foot catching on the edge of a rock startled him back into reality. He took in his surroundings and realized that he had traveled quite a distance while he was under the influence of his subconscious. Gazing up at the sky, he guessed that it was probably late afternoon to early evening since the sun was in the process of sliding down towards the horizon behind a range of mountains. He turned back to his path and realized that he was nearly at the field he had set as his next overnight stop from way back at his cliff-top campsite.

Once he had reached his new camp, he set down his backpack and reclined against a tree stump, taking a long swig from his canteen.

“Nearly empty?” He held his canteen up to his face as if it would answer the question for him, “Sigh, I’ll have to filter some more water soon.”

Placing his canteen on the ground, he slouched a little and closed his eyes, relishing in the cool evening air. But a rustling noise followed by a low growl quickly roused him from his reverie. His eyes shot open and stared past the rose colored sky, his mind ignoring all sensory input save that of hearing in the hopes of locating the direction of whatever made those noises. “It” was to the left of him at nine o’clock. As he stood up, he began to silently draw his precious machete out of the sheath strapped to his belt. Turning to his left, he saw that “it” was not an “it” at all; “it” was a “they” and they were two large snarling wolves.

A single bead of sweat ran a track down the side of his neck, simply adding to and emphasizing the point that he was more nervous than a third grader before their very first play. He swallowed, trying to calm his nerves, which actually helped some.

“Okay, I’ve got to remember back through all those years to my time in kendo. That’s only about 10 years, no big deal right”

He let out a deep, guttural growl of his own. “Back off! Go on, get out of here!”

His only warning was a bark and a short howl before the closest one leapt at him. He swung his right arm up in an attempt to intercept the wolf with the machete but he was too slow. Sharp, burning pain lanced through his left forearm as the wolf bit down, hard. His intense cry of pain combined with beating the animal over the head with the butt of the machete startled it long enough for him to pull his injured arm out of the snapping jaws of death. He stood there, a shadow hovering over his face, as he stared in shock at his left arm. The limb in question was hanging limp at his side with little rivulets of red dripping from it at a steady pace.

A low growl indicated the intent of the second wolf, startling him back to the fight. Instinct took over and he leapt to the side, narrowly avoiding a lunging bite from the second wolf. In one fluid motion, he pivoted on his feet and swung his machete down, attempting to hit the wolf before it had time to recover and retreat. Contact was made and the beast fell, letting out a pitiful whimper as its life essence began to drain out.

He pulled his machete out of the dead wolf’s neck turned to face his one remaining opponent. It slowly began to stalk towards him, growls quickly turning into snarling. When it was finally 30 feet away, it suddenly started sprinting at him. He got into a defensive stance and started to swing as the dog leaped at him. He had swung a little early so all he ended up doing was giving a good cut to the wolf’s foreleg but not before a flailing paw managed to score a line down his side, tearing his shirt and drawing a small amount of blood in the process.

He drew his injured arm back a shot it forward straight at the wolf’s head. The punch sent the animal reeling but dropped him down onto one knee as he clutched the bite on his arm. The two remained where they were for about three minutes, eyes locked and glaring flaming daggers of death at each other. The battle of wills continued until finally, the wolf broke eye contact, granting dominance. It turned tail and limped out of the clearing and into the forest as fast as it could.

He staggered over to his makeshift camp and pulled out his first aid kit from his pack, grabbing some antiseptic and clean bandages. Medicine in hand, he began to treat his injuries. As he was working, a lone howl rang through the night air. Even without seeing the source, he knew that it came from the wolf he had just fought. Suddenly, the hair on the back of his neck stood on end as a collection of howls rose up to join the first. This was going to be a long night.

~-_-~-_-~-_-~

Sleep had mercifully come quickly. It wasn’t all that surprising though, considering he had hiked for a whole day just to end up fighting for his life once he reached camp. Unfortunately, the new day brought fresh problems of its own. There was a large pack of hungry wolves that were probably waiting for him in the forest. And while he believed he had treated it before it had gotten infected, his arm was still injured and he couldn’t really use it for much. The good news was that it wasn’t his “sword” arm; he could still defend himself if he was attacked.

He heaved himself up onto his feet and began to tear down the camp. As he worked, his brain went into overdrive thinking about what he should do. Having an injured arm, out here, on his own…if something went horribly wrong, that injury could throw the odds in death’s favor. He would have to be extra careful. Next, where should he go? He was in the middle of a mountain range and the nearest town was where he had planned to end his backpacking adventure.

“Oh well,” he thought, “nothing left to do but stick with the plan and keep moving forward. Allons-y.”

He hefted his pack up onto his shoulder and began to walk off toward the edge of the forest. With each step that brought him closer to that line of trees and vegetation, he felt the butterflies in his stomach getting more and more agitated. It was as if those little imaginary insects could tell that something potentially life-changing was going to happen soon.

Now, there are usually two common reactions to the butterflies-in-the-stomach scenario: one is where you give into the sensation and just curl up into a fetal position, trying to hide from whatever might happen. The other one is quite the opposite; it is where one steels their resolve and chooses to confront this happening face-on. This second response is what the lone adventurer went with and picking up his pace, he walked right up to the line separating open field and shadowy forest.

The sun was at his back but even with a massive gaseous ball of fire giving its light in aid, the trees of this forest seemed impervious to any breach of their leafy defenses. On any other day, he might have just taken the long route around this forest but his arm was in a bad way and wasn’t going to get better with him just standing there. So one swig of water, two deep breaths, and a quick wake-up smack later, he took his first steps into the dark forest.

He stopped, stood up, and took inventory. Body: Whole. Head: Attached. Arm: Still injured and still smarting. Sanity: There but beginning to fade. Machete: Check. Backpack: Check. Scary monsters trying to attack and munch on human flesh: Not there. With that accomplished, he felt a good deal better. He spontaneously reached out a picked a leaf off of a nearby tree and just held it in his hand. He held onto it as if it could protect him and keep his sanity grounded. With his placebo protector in hand, he continued on in his trek.

A little while later, he began to notice small changes to the environment. It started off subtle; the forest seemed to be getting lighter as if he was nearing the other side. He took a few more steps before having a spark of brilliance. He reached up again, plucked a leaf from the tree in front of him and compared it to the leaf from the edge of the forest. He was confused by what he saw: the leaf he had just grabbed was the same shape and was probably the same species as the leaf from the boundary but for some odd reason, the second leaf had almost two times a lighter shade of green. He stood there slightly slack-jawed for a moment before shrugging and simply chalking it up to another one of those funny quirks of nature that mankind will never understand.

A few minutes more of walking and he took notice of another strange thing happening. There was a strange smell wafting through the air, not like a single stream of smell that may come from, say, a pie on a windowsill, but more like completely saturating the air. It was a smell that most definitely did NOT belong in a forest and instead, belonged in his grandmother’s kitchen. That smell, though faint, was unmistakably the smell of his late grandmother’s “world famous” fudge brownies; it had that slight hint of cinnamon, his grandmother’s own little flair, the signature of an artist.

At this point, he was sure that either his arm had gotten infected and he was now beginning to suffer for it or he was simply starting to lose his mind. Either way, he had to get out of the forest fast! He picked up the pace until he was speed walking as fast as he could comfortably. However, if he hadn’t been moving so fast and was paying more attention to his surroundings, he would have noticed a strange patch of phosphorescent blue lily-like flowers to the side of the path he was going down. In fact, he didn’t take note of much at all, he was that focused on getting out of this forsaken forest as fast as humanly possible.

He would have remained in this state too if he wasn’t dragged roughly back into reality by a menacing sound coming from his right. He stopped on a dime and rigidly turned his head, worried that the wolves from last night had finally found him. What he saw next surprised, relieved, and scared his hair right off at the same time. Standing in front of him was a creature that roughly resembled a wolf in shape but was somehow made entirely of wood! As they faced off, he could hear the creature’s ragged breathing.

“HOW IS THIS EVEN POSSIBLE?!”

That question couldn’t be pondered for long because with another growl, the thing charged him, murder gleaming from where its eyes should be. He quickly backpedaled to get away from the thing trying to get him but it had a head start and a much greater speed. It jumped and rammed him with its full body weight, practically throwing him into the tree behind him. His head hit the trunk with a painful bang and everything went black.

[A/N: Some of you will probably whine/complain/Rarity about my using the smell of fudge from PonyFall. Truth is, I liked the idea so I’m using it to indicate that “We are not in Kansas anymore.”]

Comments

[Infungus]

Hmm... nice story.

I eagerly await more

[mia826]

The summary caught my eye, but I ended up skimming through the long flash back, and, because of my boredom, ended up skipping the fight with the wolves as well. That's probably just me, but if you think that's something you could improve on then I'm glad to have helped.

The main reason the summary caught my eye was the way it was narrated. I really liked it. I was expecting that from the story, but didn't see that much. Maybe you could work on that?

- Cream Puff Pony

[uTTerAbsurdity]

460103 Yeah, I admit the flashback was probably a little too long. I guess I just got a little carried away.

As far as the narration goes, I'm usually about 50/50 when it comes to that. I like giving detailed descriptions to make the story more immersing (guaranteed, that doesn't work every time.) but then many times my more spontaneous/comedic side will barge in and I could go off on a tangent for a while. I usually try to control it and work it in gently. I really suppose I could go either way with this story. I could keep it more serious or I could pull it off into left field with the comedy. I guess it's up to you guys.

And thanks for the feedback.

[EvilEnchantress]

you have found a track and twilight would not use rayquaza she would use a phycic type poke'mon for the similarities to magic

[uTTerAbsurdity]

461224 You are correct. It doesn't make the picture any less epic but yes Rayquaza would not be a first choice. Sadly though, I looked and I can't find any pictures of Twilight and Gardevoir.

[EvilEnchantress]

461607 damn you poke'knowledge not letting me remember exactly what poke'mon that is isn't that kresalias female evolution I belive I would see rarity with something more like gardevoir and Twilight would have something more like alakazam

[uTTerAbsurdity]

461617 But Gardevoir's so awesome!

.....Wait, how did I not see this? Mewtwo! It's the perfect pair!

[EvilEnchantress]

461646 no mew two is to violent mew would be a better choice mew is ussually non-violent (I say ussuallt because of I beleive the first movie where mew and mewtwo turned ash to stone accidentally mewtwo made the clone poke'mon)

[uTTerAbsurdity]

461654 True. True.

[EvilEnchantress]

461697 now we need to figure out the other poke'mon partners lets see I see fluttershy with one of the cuter pokemon skitty togepie something like that rainbow I see with skarmory no hmmm some fast bird poke'mon staraptor maybe applejack hmmm not sure of her rarity I still think gardevoir pinkie noone will ever know and spike I would see with either ponyta, rapidash, or a dragon type pokemon

[uTTerAbsurdity]

461714 Fluttershy I think would go well with Chansey. Don't know about RD, maybe Snorelax. Applejack I can see with Graveler as like a strong, down-to-earth (literally) pokemon. Rarity probably would have Gardevoir. Pinkie would have Togepi because of Metronome. I think Spike would have a Machop. It's strong, macho, same shape as him and would likely grow bigger with him.

[EvilEnchantress]

461850 I see except rd I agree rd would have a awesome cool whatever she calls it poke'mon that can fly and move fast no wait applejack would have a grass type such as meganium

[uTTerAbsurdity]

461863 It's settled then. Looks like we've got a pretty good team here.

[EvilEnchantress]

461877 yep lets see we got flying fighting phycic normal grass another phycic and another normall meh I wouldn't use that as my battle team but it still would be pretty good I loved this conversation here over the coarse of ten comments we figured out who would have which poke'mon also celestia would have solrock and luna would have that moon shaped pokemon

[uTTerAbsurdity]

461894 Totally! And can we stick Blueblood with a Magikarp?

[EvilEnchantress]

461916 hmm I'm trying to think of something better for him yeah there's no snobbish poke'mon and there isn't a more useless poke'mon magikarp have a thing that is even more useless than you

[Mr AJ]

Does this mean that Celestia's pokemon would be a solrock? Also, he smells fudge? I think that means there's an artifact at work.

[uTTerAbsurdity]

462415 Or it could be that the Warehouse's back door is on the fritz. Claudia really needs to fix that.

[Meliron]

"Whine/complain/Rarity" got me to laugh. I'm a little concerned about the whole "fell asleep and I'm in Equestria dafuq is this" vibe I'm getting from this. I dunno if you're gonna tell how he got there, but most stories have at least some way of setting it up. With this it almost seems like he just woke up with no actual logical explanation as to how the hell it's even possible. It's a little anticlimatic in my opinion. Like, he just finished fighting two wolves like a badass, went to sleep, and "Oh shit! He's in Equestria!" There's really almost no buildup to getting there. I assume you wanted to include the wolves for the plot device of getting him injured, which I can understand, but there isn't anything leading up towards this spontaneous transportation, unless I totally missed something. It just seems out of place to me. Admittedly most HiEs dont have logical explanations, but they at least have an explanation, however improbable. The only thing that's running through my mind as an explanation is that he died in his sleep, woke up in Equestria unknowing, and encountered a single timber wolf that may or may not have been the wolf that he killed that somehow came through some wierd portal with him. That seems unlikely because you said the fudge was code for "We're not in Kansas anymore." The only other thing possible in my mind, but I don't really understand, is how he could maybe ... I guess just walk(?) through an invisible portal in the middle of a random forest. Ah fuck it. I can't explain magic. I'm too finicky about this stuff anyway. I'll stop ranting now, and I'm sure it'll be explained later on, causing this entire post to be completely unnecessary. Whatever, I'm posting it anyway. =P

[uTTerAbsurdity]

464139 Hmm, that whole died in his sleep and then fights the wolf he killed is kinda cool. No, that's not what happened but it certainly would be an interesting, if not deep, way to portray the story.

You actually did get it right though. He literally walked through a portal. I tried to drop the hints of the transition from Earth to Equestria (i.e.: the changes in the shades of the leaves, the smell of fudge, and the patch of poison joke) maybe I didn't explain it well enough. If so, sorry, my bad. But keep in mind that this is just the beginning, things are gonna go a lot deeper from here.

[Meliron]

464236
I think you explained it well enough, it just caught me off guard. I wasn't expecting for him to suddenly walk through a invisible portal, with what had just happened earlier, y'know? Idk, I think I'm too nitpicky for my own good. Regardless, I enjoyed it so far.
Also, yeah I blame my active imagination for those ideas lol.

[IncoherentOrange]

464236Subtle hints were all that were required, and the timber wolf to seal the deal. Nice so far, I'll we watchin'.

[uTTerAbsurdity]

466371 Completely understood.

466377 Thanks.

[shira]

Before I read this the teaser made me think of one thing:

i.imgur.com/8rtrB.jpg

[uTTerAbsurdity]

475632 AHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! That is so freaking awesome! You get three muffins for that.

[shira]

477271

Edit: I wrote an unnecessarily long rant on why your bit about him doing kendo is an awful idea. In short: what you described doesn't make any sense with someone who has actually practiced Kendo, unless you're going off some very obscure form in Japan that would not be practical at all. Think about it. If you're going to fight someone with a longsword/bastard sword with what is effectively a short sword...it will not end well. That and that entire section tells me nothing about the character other than I should be concerned that he's going to cross over into Mary Sue territory soon.

If you're going to use something like that as a background focus more on the character, not on the absurd stuff he does. It's an HiE fic, I know the odds of the protagonist not being a self-insert are pretty slim but in the off chance that this isn't you need to focus on who this guy is rather than how "special" he is. More over Kendo would be far FAR less useful for actually fighting than an actual martial style.

I'm disappointed you spent pretty much no time building character for the protagonist. We know so little about him he's one step away from a FPS character at this point and he's not interesting! This is where most authors will say, "Just wait a chapter or two," but I'm beginning to learn that if someone doesn't build things right in the beginning, they rarely get it right later on.

This story isn't bad it...it's just not much. I honestly don't know whether to follow this one or not. We've got no plot, no character, and only the tiniest shreds of a background. I'd like to say the concept is nice but...there's no concept yet besides Random Male Protagonist A wanders into Equestria Ryoga style.

[uTTerAbsurdity]

477654 Hmm, I'll be honest, I've never really heard of Mary Sue up until now. Thanks for warning me about this, it's definitely something I'm going to work on.

I'm going to say this right now, this is NOT a self-insert. If there are pieces of my life that happen to coincide with the story, that is only for the sake of taking the story where I want it to go. Also, the Kendo isn't going to be very important to the story in the long run. All I really intended it to be for was to explain the background for the machete. I may have overdone it...unfortunately, I'm rather good at that.

The first chapter is simply a prologue, it's only purpose here is to tell what happened before coming to Equestira.

Now you've kind of backed me into a corner here with the "Just wait a chapter or two" thing because really, everything actually does happen in the next chapter. I'm not claiming to be perfect, I don't think I'm even that great a writer, I'm simply writing this for the thrills. I'm going to hope that I can make it into that small percentage that can make a good recovery, but if not I'll just try again. Practice makes perfect. I know I'm not the best right now, but hopefully I can get a lot better later on.

I also changed the title of the first chapter to say "Prologue." Hopefully, that will clear up some confusion.

I really appreciate the criticism. It was very helpful and I think it probably influenced what happens later on in the story. Thanks a bunch! If you have more to say or just have some suggestions, I'd love to hear it. Once again, thank you.

[shira]

479795

http://www.ponylandpress.com/ms-test.html Can't hurt to put the character in and see what comes up.

You wrote a background chapter but...it isn't very background-y (new word! ). You focused on what I believe are the wrong elements. I have very little feel for the character at from the perspective of someone who has done both fencing and kendo, am not exactly happy at your start . If anything traditional European fencing, maybe saber (Épée is too thrust oriented as rapier)...but really does it matter?

A machete isn't a standard weapon and it's not like you had him use it in combat appropriately anyway so who cares what style it is. Rather than focus on what he learned, show us how he learned? Was he dedicated? Did he teach others? Did he take to the emotional/spiritual training or just focused on the sport/physical side of things? Does his experiences help define him or is it just a skill the guy has?

Tell us more about the character himself! I want to know who I'm reading about. What does he like? What does he dislike? What are his strengths and weaknesses? Build us someone we can all understand.

[uTTerAbsurdity]

484006 Wow, a litmus test for it huh? That's neat-o. I'm definitely going to save that for later.

Hmm, you have a good point about the background chapter having possibly the wrong elements. I've been thinking it over and I believe before I send out the next chapter, I'll go over and rewrite the first one and make it a little more connective-y (?) for the audience.

The machete in my opinion was more of a "character trait" than anything else, I guess. I mean, one of the biggest things that I dislike about HiE fics is where the protagonist has no real way to defend himself. I already knew that I wanted to make him an outdoors-man but when it came to defending himself, I pretty much had two options: either he defends himself with his fist or he uses a sort of sword. He was already a backpacker so I suppose having him carrying around a machete made sense.

As far as character development goes, it really is supposed to get going in the next chapter. I'm pretty sure you noticed but he didn't talk very much in the prologue, when he finally begins interacting with the natives, that's when I intend to have his character start to come out. I agree though, I probably didn't do the best in setting it all up and well, that's what I'll be keeping in mind when I rewrite it.

Again, thanks for the help and the tips. If it's not too much trouble, I would love it if you could follow along with the story and continue of offer critiques on it.

[shira]

HiE fics are not only my primary story of choice (yes I'm a masochist) but I edit for a couple of people who write them as well so I'll be happy to look over it as you go. Shoot me a PM if you want me to look over anything in particular.

Best of luck to you. We as a community really need more good HiE fics to show that they're not all poorly thought out, self-insert, drivel.

[uTTerAbsurdity]

484593 Well golly gee wilikers! Thanks!

[shirotora]

A HiE fic that doesn't involve Twilight botching a spell I am intrigued

[Goffee]

>2012

Why must time be so fleeting