In the deep valley, the continuous forest was shrouded in a dense fog. It was as if nature here greatly despised the light, blocking the nearby sun from its sanctuary. Moist soil teemed with green moss, and the cool humidity enveloped the woods. When you walked through such dense forest, you could be deluded into thinking that ice and snow were kissing your ankles.
The mist spread to the deep recesses of the dense forest, gradually taking on a hue otherworldly. From the distant mountains came the cries of wild beasts, singing the tranquility of nature. Trees swayed their tender branches in the wind, playing a green wind organ.
Soon in this symphony, discordant noises appeared.
The sound of fabric rubbing against dried branches, like the incessant buzz of insects flapping their wings, turned time back to that scorching summer dominated by cicadas.
