• The wind whips through the quiet plain, disrupting the gentle grass as it curves an unending path through the air. The invisible force winds through tree limbs, shudders leaves, whistling its merry tune in time with nature's melody. Soon it flutters through thick canvas, sending it flapping with a soft, cloth-like response. The yellow pattern unfurls at nature's breath, in the distance a bright red flourishes. It takes moments, but the wind is disrupted by the movements of many shining objects. They clatter against the earth, and their skin reflects the sky. When the wind sang through their bark, it forced the wind's tune from a beautiful melody to a mournful elegy, a wail of pain and despair.

    Percussion joined her cry, the steady crash of metallic feet to give rhythm to her rhapsody. The closer the sides came to meeting, the stronger her voice became, a pleading call to cease, to return to the land and to live and to love. Closer still they came, forcing her voice into one final crescendo of passion before their constant beat turned into the unstoppable chime of metallic cymbal crashing against each other, sickening drum pounding organs to mush, solo voices blended together in a choir of pain and fear. And still the hollow plead of the wind bore on, growing ever more silent as her words were left unheeded.

    Ages seemed to pass, and her voice grew hoarse. Still, her rasp sobs made their way through the grass, softly caressing the still bodies whose faces contorted in one final emotion of peace. Her gentle embrace enwrapped each and every man and child, the occasional hidden woman who found her way to battle. She was their last comfort, even when they were gone. No longer did she sing through the treetops, or caress a gentle lover's secret meeting. Today, she mourned, and her tears fell softly on that once-again silent plain. Washing the grime from the soft, beautiful faces of her beloved children, she whispered to them a lullaby, wafting through the rain.