A cold autumn breeze drifted through the forest.Unabashed and unchallenged, it swished it's way through the now bare trees, chilling their bark, and leaving a frost on the fallen leaves below. The sky was gray, and not a soul was to be found. Squirrels, long buried in their nests in preparation for winter, were nowhere to be seen. The geese had long ago flown south, and the once frog, and cricket filled pond, was now silent, and a thin layer of ice, polished the surface. The path that had once made its way through the woods, was lost, buried under a blanket of leaves, and every trace of human activity, had gone. Save for a small, quietly crackling fire, amidst the woods. Nothing more than a small pile of sticks and twigs, the tiny light, gave off little heat. Around it, the leaves had been cleared back, and a flattened rock, cleared of any debris. On this sat an old man, his hands pressed close to the flames, soaking up any heat that was being given off. Beside him, in the nearest, old oak tree, perched a crow, no younger than the man. Each appeared to be well worn, the bird, having many a ruffled feather, carried a hint of gray, all across her coat, while the man held his share of time's lines.
Merry Meet, Merry part, and Merry Meet again