He marched through the winter cold, steadily and determinely, against the blistering winds of the night. His body was now more dead than alive, freezing air and knee-deep mush had done away with his feet and legs. His eyes proved glassy, unblinking, unwavering. Only one thing could have stopped this man…but death…had already lost its chance at him. Now, he was alone; alone to face what trials man and beast alike cower in fear of, to regain the life his once parched soul had forfeighted after years of torture and dismay!
He was alone. Only one thing could stop him. Only one thing could save him. He was done for the night. Now, he was ready for the nightmare.
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