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A lush, colorful valley spread before him.

Bathed in bright sun, trees laden with fruit bent inviting branches low, beckoning. Berries grew in tight bunches on every bush, with heavily-scented flowers flourishing anywhere they could gain foothold. A merry creek flowed with a bright tinkling sound through the vale, quicksilver fishes darting just beneath the surface.
He walked along the mossy bank, stopping at a vine that twined around the stout trunk of a tree. Blue trumpet flowers blossomed along its length, interspersed with large, brilliantly white berries, somehow irresistible. He sampled one, plucking it gently from the vine. When he bit into it, it tasted like nothing he had ever experienced before; sweet, thick, slightly tangy, with a richness that seemed strange yet familiar somehow.

For a long time he stood there and gazed out over the valley, watching leaves rustle, sun and shadow playing over the swift waters of the stream, and jewel-toned birds calling to each other from high branches. He took the time to savor it all.