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Magic #40

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The early morning mist clung to the edge of the forest. Hugging bush, and tree. Waiting for the late summer, early autumn sun to burn it away. Far above a thicker cloud-bank grasped the mountain with a firm, and resolute, grip. Defying the sun. Betwixt the two lay the open ground of the scrublands that led into the dead scree of the mountain tall itself.

"I don't like this. This is ambush country." Growled Kralla.

"But you knew it was here, right?" Barnabas almost squeaked, as the group peered, from the tree line.

"Yes. Still don't like it though..."

6 comments add one below

  • avatar

    Drew Martyn almost 3 years ago

    Oooh getting wonderfully tense, Jeff :)

  • avatar

    Jeff Taylor almost 3 years ago

    Happy New Year Drew, and thanks ;)

  • avatar

    Drew Martyn almost 3 years ago

    Happy New Year to you, too, Jeff.
    I've no idea where this series is headed, but I reckon there are some treats in store for us :)
    (And a Happy New Year to everyone on Drablr)

  • avatar

    Neville Hunt almost 3 years ago

    What a wonderful description of the early morning mist, Jeff... clinging, hugging, grasping, defying. What great descriptive verbs to describe the early morning mist. I can picture it so well. Great stuff Jeff.

  • avatar

    Jeff Taylor almost 3 years ago

    Thanks Neville. And a Happy New year to you :)

  • avatar

    Neville Hunt almost 3 years ago

    And Happy New Year to you too :-)

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