Some trees started like spies along the road.

Overhead, where the mists were faint, the sky showed the faintest of pale blue.

The long road rang under Olva's step--it would be a frosty night.
When the little wood was now a black ball in the mist Olva was suddenly sick.

He leant against one of the dark mysterious trees and was wretchedly, horribly ill.

Slowly, then, the colour came back to his cheeks, his hands were once more steady, he could see again clearly.