Low clouds laden with rain fill the sky, bringing an early twilight, their edges mingling with each other like the steel on either side of a hamon, twisting slowly. Eventually the grey of the hemisphere above darkens to a shade above black, the clouds extending their sphere of being to the earth - at first a subtle caress of mist that is cool and heavy in my lungs, carrying the scent of the damp leaves that plaster the ground. The sky touching my face, welcoming me to the last slow dance before winter.
I stretch out my arms, fingers brushing bark made soft and slightly spongy by the rain, sliding through the tall grass that bends at my touch. Footsteps unsounding; the only thing allowed to speak into this silence is the rain, and the voice of its falling carries me into the deepening darkness.