Heron Lake Plateau Cut my teeth on wedding rings

Aeronwyn wade silently into the water's of the lake, starting a Heron into flight. It flapped over the surface of the lake, quickly disappearing into the heavy fog laid like a blanket over the still water. This morning she had set out earlier, and come to the edge of a lake she had always skirted around before. But now, as she drink from the clear waters, she marvelled at the mysterious feel the lake held in the early morning, almost completely still and silent, the motionless lack of noise so thick it was palatable. 

She did not break the silence, slipping further into the waters with the learned feline grace she employed often, stormy eyes and pale, cloudlike coat blending in well with the fog and pale waters, the sky overhead grey with the morning's first light, the colour show that was sunrise not yet begun.