Fog blanketed the island and all was still. Birds flew as ghosts, weightless to the eye, their cawing dimmed. Tree branches and fence posts formed the only contrast in the wintery landscape. The hushed voice of the wind barely reached the ear.

A heron landed on the lakeshore, the star in his own private performance, a flash of bright white. Across the field, cranes took flight in a single file, and all was quiet again.

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