The pines showed hard, green, and dead in the shadow; in the sunlight, fine, green-gold, and alive.

The fallen leaves, moved by foot or by breeze, made a light, dry, talking sound.

The white birch stems clustered and leaned; patches of bright-green moss ran between the drifts of leaves.
The sides of the hills came close together, grew fearfully steep.
Crags appeared, and fern-crowded fissures and roots of trees like knots of frozen serpents.

The glen narrowed and deepened; the water sang with a loud, rough voice.
Alexander loved this place.

He had known it in childhood, often straying this way with the laird, or with Sandy the shepherd, or Davie from the house.