The
valley laid before me, a pale spring landscape painting thrown across my
vision. So close that if I were only to reach my hand forward, I could almost
touch it. The cold air swirled through my lungs like smoked ice, the wind
violently whipping my hair about my face and chanting through the vale below,
calling me forward. It was so easy. It was as natural and effortless as
breathing in the icy air. I let go, and let that landscape claim me as I fell.
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