Scribble: To be expanded into something called "The Immortal."

      With each footstep he took, the trees behind him blossomed, only to give way to leaves that grew and fell in a heartbeat, leaving bare branches to blossom once more. As branches creaked and dripped with dew, depressions left by footsteps soon gave way to moss, then grass, only to wither away and disappear under snow, again and again, gradually hiding any hint of a path. Yet, ahead of him, the path remained clear, the trees still budding with the kiss of spring, and all seemed perfectly still.
      Is this what forever is like? he thought, as ancient eyes drifted along the road ahead.
      He looked at his soft, ageless hands, stopping long enough to be buried beneath snow that would melt away each second. No longer could he feel the cold of winter or warmth of summer's sun; only his sight could tell him of the season's constant shift. Looking into the air, all he could see was the rich blue of a thousand days and nights at once, merging into the richest color he'd ever known.
      "Almost as beautiful as her eyes," he whispered, lost in the wind, as moss slowly overtook his legs. "Almost..."