*The pair walk slowly amongst the headstones past the graves of the villagers, solemn grey sentinels to the deaths of those whose names are carved on the stone. As they exit the opposite side of the graveyard, they approach the wood, walking into the thin tangle of branches, leaves of various colours blowing in the cool breeze and sometimes falling to the ground, washing the forest floor in a sea of crimson, orange, and gold as the confiers stand on ever-unchanged.*
*And yet, there does not seem to be any disturbance in the woods, just the same eerie silence that covered the graveyard like a sepulchral pall.*