The hours preceding the dawn were always the dullest. No sound came from within the forest and the horizon laid motionless beneath the slowly brightening sky.
The night has passed, once more, uneventfully. As did the night before.
The recent months have been surprisingly calm, with not even a single warning arrow fired and for the guard, one of many seated along the northern border of the Golden Woods,
days were blending into one another as the time simply flown, caged in the never ending circle of sunsets and sunrises.
The warden watched the sky bleeding purple, perched on their vantage point, high among the branches.
The rising day flickered along the wide expanse of the Andúin with a glimmer, before the Sun rose fully and the forest around them exploded in the cacophony of familiar sounds.
A soft rustling in the bushes beneath turned their attention toward the noise.
They watched a fox emerging from the woods, its posture wary, its slim, triangular head turned up and nostrils flaring in obvious curiosity.
Sensing no danger it trotted along, its fluffy tail waving above the tall grass. Their eyes followed the swift movement for a while, before they turned toward the rising sun, enjoying her warmth.
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