Taran-tara! Taran-tara! A bracing winter's day in the mountains, and the lady of the manor is out for her
morning constitutional. Strange, the sound of hunting horns. Only her husband is allowed to hunt in these woods
(well, and the King, obviously) and he wasn't planning to go hunting when she left him this morning. So what are
all the horns about? Surely it couldn't be those uppity peasants again? That's strange... the horns seem to be coming from all around her. It was almost like SHE was the hunt's quarry...
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