The inky light is different, cool and blotted–autumn light, the blood-red fox is on the move, red fern in the drowsy field, suspicious flowers flowing from her mouth, she walks soundless like a bird, the dipping swan in the lavender lake, a small wolf or lioness, a puppy with shark teeth, cunning and delicate, dry leaves fall, black ashes, an assassin, scent of wild honey and perfume orchids, her cruel talent of hiding, knowing that you can't find her, there is a small lily pad pond with golden and owl-arched petals on the water, she will bathe silently in the silken breath and pristine pool of dreams near a sad grave that is painful to look at.