She came to a place where the bowlders over which the creek foamed and splashed as it hurried southeastward were big and numerous enough to make a crossing.

She took it, went slowly on down the other bank.
There was no sign of human intrusion.

Steeply on either side rose a hill, strewn with huge bowlders, many of them large as large houses.

The sun filtered through the foliage to make a bright pattern upon the carpet of last year's leaves.

The birds twittered and chirped; the creek hummed its drowsy, soothing melody.