With 'evil'in mine eye, I wait and watch that castle, hidden as I am from blinkered sight by leafy boughs in nearby copse.

Engulfed by verdant plant and branch, I bide my time, my head bowed in reverance, not to any 'god' of myth and malice, but to the memory of my mother and her suffered pains at the gnarled and graspinmg hands of those who sought to 'cleanse the soul of fallen whore'. Her anguish is carved into my flesh and will not be effaced.

With stealth in mind, yet fleet of foot, I move towards the water's edge, whereupon I slip unnoticed 'neath gentle waves and make my way, via 'left-hand path', towards that bastion of hatred.