It's a perfect autumn morning in Pretty Valley. The grass and tents are frosted with ice, the air is cold and invigorating, the silence immense. Sitting and waiting for the sunlight to spread across the plains from the hills to the west, it feels so silent you can hear the earth itself humming. In the shallow valley below, white mists form above the marshy landscape and braided waterways, rising until they meet a temperature inversion, which creates a ceiling effect that stops further upward movement. The flat topped mists then flow slowly towards the south east. Finally, the sun starts to warm my back. The air fills with bird call, the parrots sweep through, chitting as they fly past. After a cold night, it seems like everyone and everything is glad to be alive this morning.
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