"Brook in hip waders is running for her life from the big dangerous bear=)"
...Sticky gray twilight slowly rolled upon a silent autumn forest. Melancholic rain was dripping on the black water of a small river. Under the weight of moist grimly swayed heavy branches of spruces. Squishes of her waders upon the road puddles, which was full of rich thick mud, rang hollow in the wet forest. Brook waded through the river, intending to go in that part of woods, which she has never visited before.