The water is as clear as brown glass against the flame of the sun.  It is just endless, dim substance.  No worms.  No motes.  No tadpoles.  No fish.  No tiny starbursts of insect life.<br/><br/>Just the river, rinsed pure and dark.<br/><br/>Above the water, the wind sighs warm, like an impatient god, and the orchard green trembles as if at what's to come.