At dawn, wildflowers in the woods still glistened with dew, looking especially beautiful in the sunlight.
Suddenly, the clop-clop of hooves sounded along the path. In the distance, a cart piled high with firewood slowly came into view. It was driven by a skinny old man in his fifties or sixties, hunched over with his eyes half closed. He flicked the reins with his right hand and held a pipe in his left. The uneven mountain road made for a bumpy ride. Fortunately, the horse pulling the cart was old too, so it could just about manage the load and did not go very fast. The old man even had time to take a couple of puffs.
