Leap. Snap. Crackle. Burst.
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The campsite is noisy. The flickering campfire sets faces aglow - some singing, others laughing and still others reflecting their wandering thoughts. The fire is the heart of all the action - at least of their limited world. The bitterness of a Himalayan winter night cannot enter its circle of power. The flames stand tall, embracing and protecting all those who seek its shelter.
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The campsite is quiet. At least it seems so when seen from beyond where the sounds carry and the cheer spreads. Beyond... where the forest lives, moving to its own rhythms, unmindful of a handful of city-bred ape-like bipeds creating a ruckus just because they can. Its animal citizens are out doing what they do best, eating and avoiding being eaten.
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The night skies have been cleared of the spoilsport clouds of the afternoon, chased away by someone with superpowers & wanting to get a better view. Because it is quite a view. Even the noisy ones in that little corner by the flames go quiet once in a while.
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The snow covered giants of the Nepal Himalayas - wisps of icy steam curling off their tops, the silver glow of the forest under the moon's longing gaze and her distant cousins whom she'll never meet, a million pin pricks of brightness across the canvas of the skies.
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