Days blurred together, months were hard to keep track of, but Red always found something new every season, every year. He always liked to keep track of time through the ebb of the seasons. The grass that blanketed the ground glittered with hoarfrost in the strained morning glow as Red walked onwards, they crunched underneath his feet. There was a chill in the air, a northern draft that threaded through tree branches, whose canopies painted a kaleidoscope of fiery hues against the cloudy sky.
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