"Amélie! Amélie! Where are you?"
Zach's voice was ringing in her ears, and she wanted to shout out in reply to his call, to let him know of her location. But all she managed to do, was sit down on the cold velvety carpet provided by the greenish-yellow grass of autumn covering the hard ground. Assaulted by a strong gust of wind, the view was seldom able to invoke the image of low flames starting to burn as they spread around and swallowed the ground in their heat while imparting their mustard yellow colour, in someone's imaginative mind.
'The maple leaves struggling to maintain their grip on the stems were bringing about the same feelings in Amélie, as if she was going to fall off the cliff, slipping slowly from Zach's hands.
