The daylight was fading as Cocoon's rocking chair stilled, the knitting needles at rest in her gnarled hands. Her eyes drifted shut, consciousness slipping away into the realm of nightmares...
She found herself wandering a mist-shrouded moor, twisted roots snagging at her slippers. The blackened, skeletal trees gave way to a sprawl of rubble and shattered headstones jutting skyward like broken teeth. Kneeling, she gently lifted a delicate skull, but it crumbled to pale ash between her fingers.
Wailing shadows flickered in her periphery as crows wheeled overhead, their raucous cries promising a feast of carrion. An unnatural silence smothered the charnel ground - no birdsong, no whisper of wind, only the deafening void.
"Ey, whatchu doin' out here in the boneyard, nonna?" a mocking voice jeered from behind her. "Should'a brought some breadcrumbs to find your way home."
