Literature
IV - Melody of a Dark Lake
Several pairs of hooves picked thier way down a rocky slope. The group of deer were all young, button bucks and young does losing thier baby-fat. Occasionally one might lose his footing, but not fall. Instead he would spasm slightly, as if bracing for the fall, and pause, and move on. The forest of aspen trees around them were pale and gave the early-morning mist an extra glow. Above the young group's head, the treetops blazed orange.
Rowan had come into the world last spring, and learned to walk by the end of the summer. Autumn had come. It came like fire, consuming the treetops with bitter, chilled breath. A constant fog settled on the mou