It was the masterful and incommunicable wisdom of eternity laughing at the futility of life and the effort of life. There was a hint in it of laughter, but of a laughter more terrible than any sadness–a laughter that was mirthless as the smile of the sphinx, a laughter cold as the frost and partaking of the grimness of infallibility. The land itself was a desolation, lifeless, without movement, so lone and cold that the spirit of it was not even that of sadness. The trees had been stripped by a recent wind of their white covering of frost, and they seemed to lean towards each other, black and ominous, in the fading light. Dark spruce forest frowned on either side the frozen waterway.
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