Annie Proulx describes the mixed, disquieting and hazardous tone as the boys descend the mountain for their last time:
... purple cloud crowding in from the west and the metal smell of coming snow pressing them on. The mountain boiled with demonic energy, glazed with flickering broken-cloud light, the wind combed the grass and drew from the damaged krummholz and slit rock a bestial drone. As they descended the slope Ennis felt he was in a slow-motion, but headlong, irreversible fall.
=aside= Paul and Fran
Wow!
Nothing like lyrics and well-chosen images to make a round more interesting.