It was another quiet, peaceful, Red Mountain morning. The mountain lay recumbent with her face turned toward the refractive first light of day. There was little heat in the first light, in fact it stirred the air and made it colder, but there was a promise of warmth in the glowing red rock. And then there was a small sound, the clattering of a pebble rolling down the mountain. I turned and there he was, seeming even a little embarassed by his intrusion on the silence.
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