Part 3
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There was something about the mountains. They were so old, and green, beautiful, so unbearably beautiful that to look at them with your mind open for any amount of time would drive you mad, a strange, wild madness. And is that even a surprise? After all, faeries are mad.
In the night the gypsies would open their minds and get drunk on the beauty, and dance throughout the night. He warned his friend, but didn't stop him from joining the others, because there had been too much tragedy, and he wanted his friend to forget it, if only for a little while.
He didn't dance, but the joyous madness seeped into his veins, and he smiled the way he hadn't smiled for years, not since he had been innocent of the world.
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