The tranquil valley was swaddled in a veil of poltergeist-white mist. It was eerily silent in the valley and the reason was obvious. The deathly vapour didn't lick the valley's cold floor as the wind was known to do. Its tongue less form wouldn't allow it to. Instead, it warped nature by using its spineless tentacles to trail around everything. It drifted and ghosted, glided and dangled. Then it pounced. Once it was sure it had conjured up enough of its milky white substance, it clung to and enrobed everything it could. Nothing was spared. It snagged and snared every crag and tree without mercy.
Although it looked ethereal and gossamer-fragile, it packed a punch far above its weightlessness. It writhed and coiled with delight, its ghostly scarves wrapping the valley in a maze of mist. Then its age-old enemy arrived to banish it into nothingness. Darts of icy rain came spitting from the sky. They hissed and swished, shredding the veil into collars of isolated steam. Increasing in intensity, fat droplets of soaking rain purged the valley of any remaining mist. The incessant rain swelled the river, bursting its banks. It turned peat-brown immediately, rumbling through the valley's rocky caverns. This time, the rain had won.
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