Late autumn.
With the emerald cloak of summer long gone, the towering peaks wore a new crimson dress. Incursio, her footsteps crunching on the fiery carpet of fallen maple leaves, felt the vast crimson embrace the landscape. Though the once vibrant prairie prepared to fade from the scene, the leaves painted the ground like stage curtains, holding back the inevitable curtain call. Stillness reigned, as if waiting for a grand finale, a testament to nature's enduring cycle.
A sweet, nutty aroma of chestnuts filled the air, whetting the appetite.
"All things grow and mature in their own time, young Incursio," Kuina's mother remarked, gazing at the captivating scene as she walked beside her daughter. A gentle breeze stirred the leaves, sending them cascading down from the branches in a brief, silent storm. The forest floor was soon awash in red, a fleeting dance of color before the leaves settled peacefully. Time seemed to melt into reality, enveloping the world in a dreamlike haze.
