There was a crisp morning chill in the wind that blew in the Midnight Inn, cooled endlessly no doubt while flowing gently over the untouched snow that covered much of its grounds. The wind felt invigorating, rather than uncomfortable, and was even better than coffee at waking up someone who woke up from a nap.
A clear, perfect 'crunch' could be heard as a figure walked through one such untouched field, leaving behind deep but clear footprints. A few of the trees the figure passed were bare, and some showed a hint of green needle like leaves topped with the white of snow. Most of the trees, though, were quite colorful. The trees with leaves of purple crystal had spread quite fast across the Inn, and remarkably, changed colors with the season. Now, various shades of red, from deep scarlet to blood red, to the soft blend of hues occasionally found in the rising sun, dotted the endless Inn grounds.
