(Audio is recommended for further immersion.)
"Helmbold, Helmbold, Helmbold!" The second complete absence of sound of the woods was disturbed by the immediate bellows of a dreaded man. He crooned quicker within each pace as the clatter became great, echoing drums into the heart of men that cared for its noise. At last the clatter proved too terrible that it trembled the man's flee and with sudden, a loud gasp! Stranghelm woke in many sweat streaming down his face, for a moment there was dread in his eyes, and for another, sorrow and ill enveloped him. He was sat and leaned against a tree, woken by the nightmare that stilled his mind.
It was a gloom night for him, after his witness of the Tale of Two Winds, Stranghelm ventured forth into the woods where the light was bare. A day was no suffice for him, and so the sun faded, leaving him with an effort to spark fire for his camp. He was alone, for he asked Stóróf that he wished to be alone, and so the stallion stayed behind. Stranghelm, still troubled by his dream, wasn't helped by the eerie scene of the woods. The darkness was dense and even the silver light didn't pierce through the branches of the trees. He became wary, scanning the surrounding for the likes of wolves and such, but what his eyes took on account were far worse than mere wolves. The man was shown visions of old that haunted his mind, fogged his action, and so he uttered a plea to leave him alone, a silent scream in the pitch darkness of the woods, panicked and helpless by the cause. The visions only became vivid, it rushed through the man and struck to his sight, leaving him darkened to his view, and the man fell in the midst the chaos he himself deviced.
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His conscious was touched with a loud gasp once more within the first dawn, yet he woke not because of it, but another touched the tip of his nose. He opened his eyes for the first time after he fainted. For a moment, he thought his eyes had deceived him, but it was not the scene. Stóróf stood proud but humble as his head bowed to wake his master. Stranghelm, though weak, smiled with utter gladness as gloom was lifted from his weight. He came by to the sight of his friend, embracing with a hug to the stallion's muzzle, and to his forehead. "Stóróf, Stóróf! Had you not arrive a moment too soon, it would be the fate's end of Stranghelm The Fool!" He spoke in regret. The place, though darkness still loomed about, but a speck of light began to pierce, showing all was not lost yet. The man carefully prepared his belongings and rode Stóróf, patting his neck while they continued where, Stranghelm wondered.
