The leaves rustle over our head, black against the last gold of the sky.

Outside, the leaves rustled as the wind picked up in the early evening.

Not a leaf rustled, but somehow he seemed to hear the movement.

When she jumped, the leaves on the branch rustled and shook.

The leaves rustled again, the sound of something moving around the monument.

The wind made the leaves rustle, but it was not strong enough to stir the branches.

The light was dappled here, the leaves rustled above his head.

The leaves in a tree branch over our heads rustled.

He felt his feet pulling back slowly, and the dead leaves rustled.

The wind was blowing, making the new leaves rustle together, a sound almost like the sea.