crisp walks
#2
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Frost hung delicately to the tip of every plant; muddy banks were frozen solid, and streams were hard to the touch and harsh on the throat. A distant, pale moon hung in the afternoon sky, staring down the sun that sat meekly amongst its nestled wintry clouds. Despite the brutality of the weather, there was still something incredibly peaceful about it; it was soft and unobtrusive. Tamerlane was one of the many walkers today, gazing up at the sky as he walked along the riverside. One pierced ear twitched briefly at the scent of a stranger, and he looked down to see a young female up ahead, whose beautifully rich fur bristled in the breeze, but whose delicate features nevertheless spoke of contrastingly warm serenity. Tamerlane blinked down at her in affable acknowledgement as he followed the edge of the river.

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