Autumn mornings. Low lying mist, dank fingers curling about the roots of cold, dark trees. Leaves flutter in the chilling breeze. Even their bright red and orange hues are unable to breathe life into the interminable bleakness. Everything is cold, everything is damp, nothing feels alive. There is so little light. The rising sun casts more shadow than light across the oily surface of the canal. Animal noises cut through the silence. In the dark it is difficult to pinpoint the source of the noises. A howl. A whimper. A splash. Silence. Nothing.