These mountains embrace this shrouded vale within like a crux, its spires piercing the gut of the sky to let in the gleaming innards of itself. From early spring to midsummer, the hollow shakes itself loose, and bright rivers rush to cleanse alpine roots. Streams are shier and hurry forever away beneath the boughs of these wealds. Autumn flushes the alpine to its very peaks, but winter is just as quick to chase it away and remain too long.