Rolling, plunging, falling, pounding… the roaring of the falls gave voice to the storm raging inside.
He stared at the white foam that billowed where the water hit the rocks. Veiled by mist though they were, they were there all the same… bare, silent, cold. They sat in helpless immobility, the rushing waters stripping them of life.
He felt a strange affinity.
Crouching, he let his fingers brush the thick and thriving moss that clung to a nearby boulder.