The train set off into the wall of fog,

flying through the mist that concealed it.

A steel carriage blasting through the quiet morning.

The electric hum of the carriages forcing silent grazing sheep to flee their pastures.

Dogs baking in the early morning sunlight twitched their ears as the train approached, listening for something new to:

chase,

bite,

bark at,

the dogs gave it their best to capture this strange mechanical creature but always they stoped.

The train never did though.

The train chugged on,

through mist, sunshine, rain and ice.

The train went.

Eppur si muove.

And yet it moves.

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