The wistful horizon seemed to loom clear as the trees smeared shadows like ink over the desolate grasslands. The wind howled and whistled in crescendo thus masking the barren grassland with an ambience of sedate solitude. The fiery sunset leaved trees and the sharp biting wind suffused the air with the hostile thought of winter.
A bare precipice stood out against the pale moonlight casting a silvery sheen on the faint trickling water on its leaden walls. The heather forced by the gusty wind, stooped low in the presence of the lone, tyrannical rock. The leaves rustled and the shadows in the trees whispered around the lawless country, charred and scorched by the flames of ascension.
No whisper, no sudden vehemence arose to pierce the heartrending silence. Gloomy tendrils of a cloud crept over the moon, engulfing me in darkness.
On the edge of this precipice, I stood alone...