Her

the hairs on her arms stand on end and the leave-ridden trees begin to bend her ankle-long dress presses neatly to her body her eyes squint in the breeze ever so pleasently that not so much as a wrinkle is seen everyone within eye reach is aware of her presence the skies turn from a bright blue to a pale black she walks endlessly forward without even a glimpse back the rain pelts her face as she continues over the hill