The silence descended with the mist like a veil. Frogs that were only moments ago happily croaking went mute. The breeze dropped off, immediately causing the air to retain a hint of fetid water. It was as if the mist had absorbed any activity in the area and obliterated it totally.
Yet it was not a bad sort of silence. It was a silence for thought. A silence of contemplation. Edgar paused in his stroll, and chose a soft patch of ground on which to rest his weary feet. He pulled out a small pipe-flute and began to play, softly at first, but then with growing fervor, pleased that the notes rang true and the mist didn't swallow his song like it had the more natural sounds that morning. Then, another grin split his lips, as the frogs joined in, and the breeze came up again.
An hour later, rested and filled with the joy of his tune, Edgar once again set upon the road, across the lone bridge, and onward towards his destiny. A hint of sun peeked through the lifting mist. Edgar smiled and hummed a tune as a new day began again. |
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