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It's a lovely, starry night here in the Glade.
Several wanderers have already taken their seats on the logs circling the fire. Join them, and let the Silence fill you for a moment. The night air shimmers with the sounds of frogs and crickets. From the darkness beyond the fire's glow, a cool breeze combs its fingers through your hair, makes the flames crackle a little higher.
Someone's marshamallow catches fire!
Laughter ripples the leaves overhead and the marshmallow's owner blows it out and eats it anyway.
Now, across the fire from you, someone shuffles his feet, clears his throat, and stands up to recite a poem. His companions punctuate his reading by snapping their fingers; some listeners even drum softly on bongos. From somewhere behind you in the trees, an owl adds a comment of her own.