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The Princess of Prongs: Intro
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Beyond that faraway place of yesterday, and over the seas of long-since-passed, there was a time when the world was young and not yet carved by the river of progress. The skin of the earth grew with purpose, stretching over every bone from the arching spine of the white capped mountains to the heaving breast of glacial ice.
Upon this sleeping and gentle giant, there was a land, once named Ötztaler by the Germanic settlers of the Iron Age, but to the beasts and breezes it was always known as Mathair Barrog. ‘Mother’s Embrace’ the stones would tell you, if one were willing to wait for their patient response. Though even then not the snail or the turtle would have bothered to ask. When man came to this place, and began taming it to his will, he changed more than just the name. His herd was different than the others, and after some time (far more than the passing of seasons, and much longer than the maturing of young groves into somber forests) man’s herd