It had been a cold day, there was a wisp of danger in the air, something was going to happen. The forest was lush with colour, each tree beckoning to the sky, calling down the sunlight as it dappled through the branches to the ground. The leaves were still green,. even though winter was almost upon us, you could see the start of the rot, flowing from the trunks to the upper branches, signaling the tree pulling back their nutrients for yet another year, preparing for the harsh winter to come. The bark of each tree was brown. Each tree cast a shadow. Someone approached through the brown barked trees, trees which were beckoning to the sky, calling down that sunlight, while waiting for the rot to set in which signaled the change in seasons. Someone approached, cutting through the shadows on the ground, cast by the brown barked trees, trees which were beckoning to the sky, calling down that sunlight, while waiting for the rot to set in which signaled the change in seasons. Someone was approaching, and they looked cold. Cold hands, cold feet, it was cold. As they walked you could see they were shivering, even though they were wrapped up in a cloak. A brown cloak, brown to blend in, brown to match the brown barked trees, trees which were beckoning to the sky, calling down that sunlight, while waiting for the rot to set in which signaled the change in seasons. The cloak had a steadfast clasp, nothing too fancy, nothing too plain, just there, to hold the cloak shut against the cold. You could tell they were cold, you could tell they had cold hands, cold feet, it was cold. They were shivering as they walked, crossing the ground in steps, one after the other, one, two, one, two. As they approached, clapping their cold hands, stamping their cold feet, walking through the forest, which was lush with colour, each tree beckoning to the sky, calling down the sunlight as it dappled through the branches to the ground. The leaves were still green,. even though winter was almost upon us, you could see the start of the rot, flowing from the trunks to the upper branches, signaling the tree pulling back their nutrients for yet another year, preparing for the harsh winter to come. As they approached, you could see they were about to say something. They stopped walking, looked pensive for a while, as if thinking what to say. Something of great importance, something portentous, something which will be remembered for years to come, on this cold day, as the seasons are about to turn, in this lush forest, with dappled sunlight and shadows, and trees with brown bark. They spoke.
Hello.
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