Sadness and sorrow is concealed and camouflaged in secret and gilded places, you cannot mask it with an armored rock wall and delicate pond of silvering fish, you cannot escape it, I hear war drums day and night, the howling lunacy and sparked torches burned into the sickly and dying eyes of the approaching monks, I perch atop my mountain peak and wait, I am fierce, solitary, fox-like and hostile to all.