t Lee Scoresbys g  under t sun of morning.

    Golden, but also yelloreaks of brigcoo, ops of a particular kind of grass just coming into flohe sky.

    And quiet, but not silent, for a soft breeze rustled ttle stems, and a billion insects and otures scraped and oo o be seen sang little looping falls of bell notes nohe same.

    In all t   and still o back, under tcrop of rock at top of a little bluff.

    till, so pale, t t  lines around t and mud and not a little blood. And from te passivity of t stages of exion.

    Lyra  to  came past touco stir, and .

    But tly s;Pan, Pan...quot;

    Under t move for some time, because  of  limp  still s ttle breeze and ttle insect scrapings and t bird  en he world was.

    Presently sill fast asleep. ,  iff  and s. S ime, at ttle pulse in , at  rising and falling slo te shem.

    irred. Not ing to be caug  ttle grave t before, just a couple of ialys and t rest. t stone nearby; s up and prized it loose from t it uprig t up and so gaze across the plain.

    It seemed to stretc ; gentle undulations and little ridges and gullies varied tand of trees so tall to be constructed ratraigrunks and dark green canopy seemed to defy distance, being so clearly visible at  have been many miles away.

    Closer, t, at t of t more ttle pond fed by a spring coming out of ty she was.

    S up on so. trickled t again and again, washe mud and grime

    before lifting ter to  eet .

    t . Sood for a long time