A River Of Stones: Stone Number Seventeen

I stand on the riverbank, under the medieval bridge, built by the devil in a sacred pact, looking closely at the vast array of slightly-differing pebbles at my feet. In my ears is the constant gush of water travelling down from the Mountain in front of me. Just me and the pebbles on the plain as snowflakes start to leave their feathery, wet touches on each one.