From the Diary of Thee Roosevelt
November 3, 1886 - It was a bitter day after our first winter storm. As I finished my rounds and the sun began to set I came across my cattle, torn apart, as if someone just wanted to see inside, every bit of the inside. I had kept several head back to get me through the winter, and now it looked like beef was off the menu.
What bothered me most is not knowing what had done this. I found some tracks unlike I had ever seen before, and I followed them as far as I could. After a bit they just stopped, and vanished into the wind. I made it back to Elkhorn just as the last light faded from the sky and after a bit of stew I imagine I will land in my bed like a lump of rock.
November 4, 1886 (morning) - Last night my dreams were horrible. I felt myself cold, lost, wandering in a half-lit land of near light, my feet crunching across the frozen ground. Every step would shatter the frozen snow allowing a thick crimson liquid to filter up leaving a trail of bloody footfalls behind me into the shadows of my forgotten dreams. The wind blows death and I was lost.
Dawn brings little comfort as I head to visit my friend Seth in town. Perhaps there have been reports from other ranchers about similar slaughter, God forbid.
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