It was a time, when I was in village, I was 9 and the neighbours' boys used to tell horror stories about the diabolical wolf, having golden jaws which lighten at night. Brr! Ridiculous but the villagers said it was real. They never approach to the forest. But my dad, the king of vikings, on the contrary, sent me to go to the deepest to the forest. It was all my fault. I was tiring my father about how adventures are. Finally I realised:that adventures are savage. In the middle of my route, only darkness. No sound of bats, rivers and trees. Idiot! I forgot my lamp. A glimpse of golden light appeared behind me. Oh oh! The wolf! The dark creature was very angry. '...euh..calm, mate', I said. Calm? There's my results. At home, painting with pain, my father: 'What happen? Did you get bashed? Your bag's empty. Your equipments?' 'Yes, pouf...ouf...next time, I'll not bring my bag. I'll be more lighter to escape. And what's that stupid troll I should bring for ya?' GRR....I HATE THIS STORY....*POK!!
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