Awake, my dear, awake

The morning you must take

You must fight the unknown fears

That have haunted all for years

As you lie there in bed

People tremble in dread

Only you can help

Beat  pain like a whelp

You have lived your life in comfort

You must do what you were born for

So rise from you sleep

Let your sword cut deep

I know you dream deep dreams

Void of any screams

But you must hear terror today

As the wickedness you slay

The sun was setting, making purple and pink streaks across the big sky. The rolling hills were mere silhouettes against the darkening sky. And across the way, there was a small valley that was beginning to be swallowed up by the dusk. In that small valley, there lived a herd of goats. And with no goatherd, they did as they pleased. Now, in that particular herd of goats, there lived an old nanny goat and her goat kid named Bobby.