The Little River was very low that day, more of a creek than anything, barely moving, and it was covered with leaves of all color. In places where there were pools, the leaves had gathered, completely covering the pools, almost to the point where the water was covered. Other places in the river were nearly completely dry, the trickles of water hidden deep along the stones. It was a different river than it was when I had visited it just a few months before.

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