I feel the leaves crunch under my bare feet. Every so often I step on a rock or stick, and it hurts, but the pain doesn't phase me. I try to be somewhat quiet as I walk along, but I'm not that worried about hunting right now. I enjoy the feel of the branches running through my hair, pulling out what is loose. I smell, boy do I smell. I smell the tree's pollen. I smell 100 different pollens. I smell myself, and everywhere I've been today. I smell the dirt, and the different rocks in the dirt. I smell rich dirt and poor dirt. I smell the water, or rather, that which the water carries. I smell the animals that have passed by. I smell their marks. I smell their food. I hear across the wood. The air carries the sounds well, and I know how far I am from my next meal, but I am not hungry. I keep my senses keen though, prepared just to be sure. Even my own may attack, and I will have to prove yet again that I am the best. I am the best.
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Maybe the answer is in the very light reflected off our blades. Maybe that's what it means to be this creature known as samurai.
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