At dawn, water mist shrouded the area, and a light breeze carried a chill.
The broad and flat North Shore of the Yellow River was still veiled in darkness. The last traces of night clung like an unwilling hand over the riverbank, with only a faint hint of daylight breaking on the horizon, offering a glimmer of elusive brightness to those moving through the deepest darkness before dawn.
The dewdrops on the grass tips were reflected in that faint light, projecting a subtle, colorful glow, like brilliant stars twinkling in the expansive sky.
However, with the stomp of a hoof, those glimmers scattered immediately into the soil.
