Her glance travels over the arrangements of colorful ears of corn in their shucks and stalks, taking in the melons and gourds and hay-bales stacked, the few cheerful stuffy-guys in farmers' clothing with straw at their wrists and smiles painted on their faces.
(death to you)
After a moment that feels far, far too long, she makes herself draw a harsh, shuddering breath. She lets it out in turn like a sigh as she straightens her shoulders.
"If ever I were doubting before, I'd no longer," she says, a little dryly. "It's Reaping-Day today for certain."
no subject
(life to the crop)
Her glance travels over the arrangements of colorful ears of corn in their shucks and stalks, taking in the melons and gourds and hay-bales stacked, the few cheerful stuffy-guys in farmers' clothing with straw at their wrists and smiles painted on their faces.
(death to you)
After a moment that feels far, far too long, she makes herself draw a harsh, shuddering breath. She lets it out in turn like a sigh as she straightens her shoulders.
"If ever I were doubting before, I'd no longer," she says, a little dryly. "It's Reaping-Day today for certain."
(come, Reap)