Bleak
Mournful wind song shudders the old aerials. Solid thud of shotgun sounds from the banks of the swollen river, under a plain sky coloured like thick ice. Any leaf that has not fallen shivers in the moan of the wind. Birds' song carries a restless note. Beauty strikes starkly. Beyond the river, a faint view of moorlands, where any creature can live and die and never be known. Bones are weathered, lay stoic in clumps of enduring grass.