The air was chilly as the light morning breeze blew over the little village of
Vyatskoye.
The morning dew had settled on the freshly cut grass which covered the majority of the valley.
Soft footsteps paddled along the little trace pathway that morning, the swishing of the leaves being Crinkled echoing in the air.
Soft fumes were seen levitating in the air, the cause was the soft and warm pants coming out of some chapped lips.
The contrast of warm and cold melting together to form the little white condensation of air.
The sun hadn't set yet, but the birds were chirping.
They were welcoming the beginning of a new day in the little peaceful area.
The walk, the paddling hadn't taken too long as in no time the man had arrived at the top of a little hill.
Soft grey stones were placed on
