The cracking of naked knuckle bones broke the silence, and a long, white finger speared out of the dark. It stopped an inch from my nose.
“CHOOSE!” the voice tolled louder than an iron bell.
She rode a speckled grey mare through the towering forests of grain, the flower’s white petals lapping at her shoulder with every stride. Dirt furrows rose and fell like foothills, and the forest of grain never changed-
Until her head was nearly lopped off by a scythe.