Bordeaux, France 1948

She strode a lonely summers morning to the eastern extremity of the park where she would always wait. For what exactly she never knew. She had just always felt there was someone there. Someone just like her. This morning just like all the others, a strange mist over the moors, the mourning doves low crooning, and the soft wind caressing the sweet flowers in the meadow. She had taken the same paths he had always taken, only this time had decided to cut through ‘Les Bois des Faucheurs’. Notorious in local authors stories as the typical location for a horror story and such, the woods intimidated her, though her strive for adventure broke through her fears. They extended from the edge of the meadow until the edge of the park. That border of the park where she bided her time day in and day out. Though she knew not what these woods had in store for her, she soon met what mysterious entity she had been waiting for. In summers sweet caress, by the hands of a desperate soldier she was taken. Now dancing in the meadows with her love, who had dissolved some time ago in the trenches of this Western France, where the sun never shone on the violent decimation of humankind.