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I remember the soft crunch of the dead leaves under my pads and the smell of the sap, the reviving cold which spread into the forest to the rhythm of falling flakes.
Today, my hunting ground has become a path for men, covered with a black, stinking substance where the water is no longer able to filter.
Very often, roaring iron horses take this way, at a surnatural speed, leaving behind them an unhealthy smoke, like everything that has spread over our former territories.
I remember a time when red-skinned men were raising gray smoke curls into the sky, that smelled of burnt wood and vanished quickly.
But this air expelled by the new mounts of men stays here, I feel it settle on the black earth that does not let water pass, but also at higher elevations, like an evil spirit who did not find the peace.
If I walk on this road, this scar that pierces the plains and forests, I can get knocked down by an iron horse, or hurt my paws if the sun is at its zenith, because this
My first lineart on Paint Tool Sai
It's Horokeu Usui aka Horohoro, an Ice and nice Shaman ( )
Feel free to use it, but please credit me and post a comment with the link of your coloring so I can see it
© Shaman King - Hiroyuki Takei
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