The sun fell slowly, magnificently. At the cusp of the mountains that crowned the western lands golden light smiled quietly down, and the birds whispered, and the waters sighed, and the clear sky was tinged with faint blush all around. The sun cast its last gentle rays across the green tree tops, which almost seemed to stretch upwards at the sky to taste one last time the sweet honey liquor of light, before a humming breeze bent them back and shadow pooled into the valley; the sun, with all the quiet dignity of one who has lived and passed as one should. It was a proud sunset.
Cool air began to stir along the ground, licking at the feet of an old man slowly treading through the moist undergrowth.
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