Time of burning plagues, the mad and madness leading the cultist and ghost of the Cheyenne, the palsied, scalped, raw melting lepers stumbling around like drunks on a pier, a prison colony of upright and bow-legged idiots howling and screaming in stark lunacy, fractured bones of speckled deer on the highway, a borrowed blood-red sky among the chalky fern and Arabian horse farms, her anger and pale fire she has taken from the sun, a last gasp and scorch of dead trees, a world forgotten and forbidden, fallen and fading from the painted flames.