Thank fucking god.
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Oh, come on. You know you want to waltz through the forest while songbirds flitter about scattering flowers along your path and small woodland creatures perform choreographed dances. Don't worry, they do not lead you to a sacrificial altar in a forgotten glade dedicated to the Old Ones.
I mean, that kind of already happens for me anyway, except for the part where while I am off waltzing at work or in bed or on the computer and the babies of my flittering, flower-scattering friends get picked off one by one by invisible monsters.