“And suddenly, these most petite of little performers scattered, aghast in a flurry of membrane wings and tutu's as if in a melodrama at the sight of a looming figure approaching…”

"The lore says her husband buried her beneath a nameless pile of stones. The Earth swallowed up her wants and dreams as it did her remains. And all there be of her is a strange legend in these, the woods of her daughter's son's cousin's step-mother's property..."

Aye, but it didn't feel as long as that slow dragging slide of her spine down the trunk of the Old Hornbeam Tree.