It was a long time ago; however, I remember it as if it only happened five minutes ago.

It was a cool autumn night. The full moon glowing; its peace was all around me. And the stars were fireflies coming and going whenever they pleased.

I walk alone; alone down the rode that leads to my village. The winds were strong. As all winds are at night, on the moor. My blue cloak, waving in the wind. I walk, I walk, I walk alone; alone on the moor, with nothing to comfort me but my lonely candlelight.

"Caw, caw," goes the raven. For the raven cleans up whatever the night does. I walk on. Just beyond the flicker of my candlelight hangs tree limbs and vines, the moon and the firefly night.

What was that? I stop in my tracks. All I can see is blackness. What was that? I heard it again, but this time louder. "Hoo-Hoo." I look around only to see an owl, singing his deadly song. Along with him was the wolf. The wolf, singing, singing his deadly song to the moon. I kept walking, walking alone on the endless, windy moor.

Then my candlelight went out. And I heard the raven, owl, and the wolf all singing their deadly song. Then out of nowhere, there came a light, a bright, almost unnatural light. The light was a green in color yet yellow, like fire. Then, i saw a figure in a black riding cloak. I froze, for I knew I was in the prescence of a witch. This was no nice, do what ever you like witches; this was Madame Cartha. Everyone in my village knew that if you came face to face with her, it was a death sentence.

I ran, I ran, I ran alone, alone on the open mysterious moor.

Madame Cartha was behind me. I just knew it! Then I tripped, and fell, fell down to the hard ground of the lonely moor. Madame Cartha grabbed me and put me viciously against a tree. I looked up. She had no face, a nose, but no face. "You tried to run from your future, Darling? Well you then must pay a price." Before I knew it, three big gashes were cut into my side. Somehow, I managed to escape before she could kill me, out there on the lonely moor.

I ran, ran, feeling all the pain a raven could give. I'm getting weaker and weaker; but, I kept moving.

Then when I couldn't run any longer, I walked, alone, alone on the open moor. Then when I was too weak to walk, I sat down. Blood was gushing out my side. The owl, the wolf, and the raven were all still singing, singing their deadly song.

I tried to keep my eyes open as I started to lie on the ground. Then while I managed to keep my eyes open, I saw little white flakes that I knew was snow. Snow meant only one thing, winter.

I had to close my eyes, for no strength did I have. I fell into a sleep, and remembered nothing. And I layed there, lonely, motionless; out there on the mysterious, deadly moor.