Chapter 832 Mountain Air And Little Footsteps

• The air was dry and clean, with that crisp bite only high mountains hold. A soft breeze slid through the valley, carrying the scent of pine needles, fresh leaves, and wildflowers blooming in hidden corners. The fragrance curled into every breath, cool and soothing.
• No doubt about it—Mr. Wilson had picked one hell of a spot.
• Not far off, several silver-haired elders sat shoulder to shoulder on a bench atop a gentle slope, eyes half-closed as they soaked in the sun and chatted quietly. A middle-aged lady, accompanied by a caregiver, walked a pebble path along the lawn’s edge, taking a slow rehab stroll.