It was Fall Break. October. Harvest time.
Mo and I were spending it in Loudon County, land of rich country yuppies, in Northern Virginia at Granna and Grandpa's vacation house.
Mo was fine, evadeless of the fact he was home to Four Horsemen. I watched him with a careful eye.
Late night, it came:
I had had an unexpected visitor.
Rain pelted me as I hurried down a dirt path, boots squelching in the mud as each footstep brought me closer to the country road in the distance. I brushed limp strands of auburn hair from my eyes, squinting through the gray haze at the rows of dried cornstalks and thick forest that bordered the field's edge. Past the road, craggy rock cliffs rose upwards into a steep hill, crested by autumn's splendor, all gold and flames.
