Lilith by George MacDonald

We had been for some time walking over a rocky moorland covered with dry plants and mosses, when I descried a little cottage in the farthest distance. The sun was not yet down, but he was wrapt in a gray cloud. The heath looked as if it had never been warm, and the wind blew strangely cold, as if from some region where it was always night.

"Here we are at last! " said the raven. "What a long way it is! In half the time I could have gone to Paradise and seen my cousin -- him, you remember, who never came back to Noah! Dear! dear! it is almost winter!"