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There were still twenty-one days of the month left, however the atmosphere in Torrles Celfyn was deepening to its time of autumn. Appearances evolved rather rapidly when this time came. When the heavy clouds of gray slurred over the sky, covering everything and everyone in its shadow, other effects followed shortly. These clouds occurred to have stricken the heart of the warm summer heat, sending it off to where it belonged—away from the icy arms of winter that embraced the air. No warmth was left over, for these glacial fingers slithered unceasingly, plaguing wherever it could touch with a cold death that remained for the season.

Trees, even the very mighty ones, shuddered at the chilling air, until they could no longer keep the rich green in their leaves; and eventually neither could they hold the leaves at all. Only after a week or so, forest were turned to graveyards of withered trunks that reached their bony branches to the gloomy sky begging for more leaves that they had lost and were scattered carelessly below.

The silent breath of the lightest wind would then carry these crisp, dull leaves to wherever it wished; either stuffing them cracks between cold rocks or piling up on top of each other—the wind had its way at this time of the year. The vapid air suffocated most everything, and even the animals of the woods ceased their dire search for food that might supply them over the season.

This, however, was a much different matter for those who dwelled under the stalwart roofs of the cottages in the town of Wynpen. Slow columns of smoke rose from the chimneys over each home, giving a welcoming sight, and beckoning even the wayward travelers to stop and take share in the simple, yet sufficient meals within each one. And yes, almost every one of them contained a pleasant family.

Each family had its own father; a loyal, diligent man devoted to the needs of both his family and the community, to where he would, without doubt, set of if even the royal personages summoned them to any reason without question. The family then held yet another hard working person within as well; the dame of the home that had a heart of wealth for her family just the same. It showed in the way they prepared such enchanting meals for the family, how they labored away at chores needing to be done, and tending to children—that was if the family had any. And for those that did, the children were no less respectable, helping just as abundantly with the tasks that called to be done.

Some of the children who were still young of age to be capable of doing things that older siblings perhaps could played cheerfully in the best way they possibly could. They explored the woods pretending that they were going on grand adventures most no one ever did in Wynpen. They imagined they met elves, who now had not been sighted for so long it became merely a tale to speak of them. And then feigning themselves to be bearded dwarves who mined under the mountains, who though were not yet a tale—they hadn’t been sighted for quite some time, either, from anyone in Wynpen.

Yes, it was indeed a grand be a child, spending away the time of day in no better way than that. But now it was late in the fall. Children were restricted from doing so at this time of year; for the air was a cold death, the woods looked so much different now—wandering animals were hungry.



The following comments are for "eye of the troll"
by Wynpen

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