They Baited

Expect no howl from beneath their inky cowl if too clumsy a course is steered and fate says now your steps they prowl.
Sudden fugginess ensuing, my word what are they brewing? You feel the warmth and whispers, and now no thought for vespers, forgotten pleas for haste pure suffocate under the unfelt weight released on you by fell unchaste. Your burden is begun.

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