There are some vines that were hanging on the trees at the edge of the valley, they're clinging to the ground and the trees, like green tendrils of ivy, wild eggplant, and smooth fruit vines.
The open meadow was dotted with small flowers and lush grass.
As the three of them stood on the meadow, the wind ceased, and the fallen leaves that had been danced in the air drifted down like lifeless butterflies.
The sky darkened, though not as oppressively as before, still shrouded in thick clouds, now accompanied by a light rain.
A cold wind blew across the meadow, causing ripples like those on a lake, revealing a dragon before them.
Dragons have a very long history, longer even than that of the elves, though they are not inclined to recount it.
Their pride stems from their lineage.
