C118 Mysterious Old Man

The horizon was always shrouded in fog, and everywhere there was white smoke, like steam. The sun rose slowly from the ridge, evaporating the white mist into the sky.

The light of the rising sun, too, was varied and colorful. It shone on the mist, showing layer upon layer of colors, the closest to the brightest gold of the morning sun. The more they looked to the west, the darker it became