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He walked silently, ever so silently, as if a gazelle running on the plains.

His footfalls were the pitter patter of rain in the morn, washing away the soot and grime of a hard day's work. As he stepped around in a cryptic dance, spinning with the breeze, all the animals rose up in song; a chorus of nature. He knew all the animals, and they all knew him. They were friends in life, and friends at the end. He came to dance in a nearby village, tiptoeing on the rooftops and waltzing in the plaza. All the people he passed shivered, drawing up their cloaks as if a sudden breeze had snagged them. They were not his friends. They feared him. He went to the house of an old man, and took him up in ballroom dance.

They swayed to and fro, a one, two, three! A one, two, three! The old man did not fear him; he did not fear the inevitable. He welcomed the stranger as a partner, and happily danced through the night. Off they danced, picking up others along the way. The sick, the elderly, and the weak, stepping through the night. Lepers danced with Nobles in this macabre dance. Slowly moving away into the night, soon just a light on the horizon. The others in the villages watch as they leave, shuddering, glad that they were gone. However, deep down, they all knew one day they too would dance with death.