This icy wind which blows from Northern climes has teeth, teeth that nip at any exposed flesh, causing you to grimace as you walk, but you walk on all the same. Jack's not been as visible this season as I though he would be, although he's certainly making his presence felt today. Descending into the woodland from Spy Holms the wind abates a touch, the nipping ceases, the wind driven roar that filled your ears is silenced and you become aware of the quietness of the winter forest.
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