The red leaves of a lone maple rustle in whispers of defiance to autumn's command to let go and be carried off to far away lands. They cling to their branches, perhaps colored with anger, determined to remain at home; refusing to accept their destiny to depart and make their tree cold and unclothed. Even when the pleasantly warm winds blow they hold and sail 'til the weakest can no longer last and finds itself in free flutter; following airy avenues to a golden pasture of welcoming wheat where the fields are divided by earthen arteries. There walks a woman alone and the lonely leaf flits above in fascination while admiring her elegant appearance.

She wears a crown of black obsidian tied in a long ponytail and alabaster kimono; sandaled steps drowned by the sharp droning shrill of a sword drug by the mangled lacing of its hilt. It shines an ugly, rusted reflection of the afternoon sun as it carves a line into the land behind her; a curiosity compelling an investigative circling to her front to behold a gorgeous face of feathery bangs, listless coffee brown eyes and pink lips form a mask of melancholy. They look so very unhappy; so devoid of feeling that the leaf cannot glide by without aid. So it pirouettes downward upon a draft of lavender perfume to come flush with her forehead in a friendly kiss. It's all it can do to pierce the gloom.

Yet she is not enchanted; disregarding the gesture with a shunning shake of her head to cast the leaf away like an annoying insect; left to watch her walk away to the painful song of steel at her back.