Rebecca dropped the rock she had prepared to throw and rushed to the man’s side. She pushed back the coarse wool hood. She hoped that she was somehow mistaken.

When she saw her lover’s face, she jerked the hood off her head and threw it across the clearing. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she struggled to pull his body, trying to rest his head in her lap. The man hissed in pain when the salt from her tears hit the fresh cuts on his face.

“No… ooo… ooo,” she cried as she rocked him back and forth. Her tears mixed with his blood and painted his face a dark rose color. “Why did it have to be you Peter? WHY?”

“‘Death’s Maid,’” the elder’s voice echoed from the field as the crimson clad group re-entered the clearing. “You must finish your task.”

“No, I will not,” she shouted, her voice thick with tears.

“It is your duty,” the elder shouted back. “Finish it or suffer the consequences!”

“No,” she cried, as she leaned forward to kiss the man she loved. He had been the only person who cared about her since she was nine years old. “I cannot.”

“Then you must die as well.”

“You would not dare kill me,” Rebecca shouted at the men. She had loathed these men for fifteen long years. Her hatred of the elders and her love of the man in her arms gave her the bravery to oppose them. “I am ‘Death’s Maid.’”

“You silly, naïve girl,” the chief elder sneered. “Who do you believe completed the initial ritual and then trained the first ‘Maid?’ We will simply find another girl and train her to take your position.”

Slowly, the red robed men moved inward and circled around the couple. With each step they came closer. Rebecca tried pulling her lover nearer, so she could wrap her arms around him and protect him. Ultimately her efforts were in vain. She intended to keep him from further harm but he had died moments after her first tears had splashed on his face. Now surrounding her, the elders picked up the stones from the ground, the same ones she had used on Peter, and threw them at her.

Within minutes Rebecca, too, was dead and finally freed from the mantle of “Death’s Maid.” Solemnly the elders filed out of the clearing and left the two bodies wrapped in their tragic embrace. Blood flowed from the couple’s many cuts and gashes, left by the sharp edges of rocks scattered across the ground. Within minutes the blood soaked into the parched earth with a loud sucking sound. Once all the blood had disappeared into the thirsty soil, a spiral of fresh green grass slowly sprouted from the ground and spread outward as the deceased couple lay in the center of the clearing.

Hours passed unnoticed in the small clearing within the wheat field adjoining the woods. Eventually, the sun began to set and painted the cleared section of wheat field in a fantastic red light.

Suddenly, the area was alive with hurricane strength winds that circled around the couple with such intensity that the light itself began to swirl and spin. The hot wind lovingly caressed the “Death’s Maid” and her final “Chosen One.” Despite the absence of flame, they withered and seemed to burn. After a few minutes the torrent of wind spiraled outward, from the center of the clearing, and scattered the two lovers’ bodies over the entire field like a cluster of crumpled and brittled autumn leaves.