I'm big and strong. I was once wildly known as the ox that Europeans wished to be gone. Now I'm cattle, and when found in the wild, I'm no longer by the hundreds as humans know, disease is running wild.

In the heart of stone and shadow, where warriors lose their way, A twisted path of ancient echoes, where no straight sword may sway. Conquer this maze, the prize is yours to claim, Here the fierce and bold may wander, seeking glory and fame.

I cradle roots beneath the dirt, while plants reach for the sky. What starts below my surface soon grows before your eyes.

In stone arms I gather, peace and prayer, wrapped in silence like a nun's gentle care. Tucked away, a quiet retreat, where wise old stories and whispers meet.

Stressed spelled backwards is desserts, but remove one letter and you'll likely find sand, rather than sugar