A breeze stirred the yellowed tips of autumn grass, raising a gentle rustling and rolling dewdrops along the tall blades. At the meadow's edges, overhanging boughs swayed, their fluttering leaves dappling the crepuscular light over beds of clover and dandelion. Birdsong and the busy rustling of little creatures formed a tapestry of sound against an expectant, ever-lightening sky. The waking forest stirred and sang in this watery prelude to dawn. The sun seemed slow to rise, as though hesitant to end its rest. A soft sound rustled in the underbrush, and a doe stepped delicately from the western perimeter of the meadow, lowering her head to eat. 

The air snapped and boomed, pressure rising violently then falling to emptiness in an instant. At the center of the meadow grass flattened outward, then righted itself, the sudden absence of dew the only lingering sign of disturbance. The event was without true impact, soundless, formless, leaving no scars on the life or the land, but it cut through all matutinal noise and movement to leave only emptiness. As time returned, seconds moving sluggishly back to life, a new rustling broke out as birds and woodland creatures fled, the doe stumbling as she turned and ran. As the sounds of flight faded, the sun finally broke open the day. Golden light flooded warmly over the now-silent meadow, gilding fading leaves and grass, gleaming on a drop of blood as that beaded on a cloverleaf and then fell to the ground. At the center of the impactless crash, a body lay unmoving, the brilliant dawn painting it in the vicious colors of sunset. Scarlet and crimson seeped into the soil, rusted orange and pink flashed off copper hair, and gold reflected on rusted iron bands at the body's wrists, all shockingly loud in the silent green. 

Too quietly, the heart beat and breaths rattled. Uncaring, the dawn passed into day, clouds gathered and dispersed, and the noon sun moved westward. The soil stayed red with fresh blood, but the scent tempted no carnivores, all still too wary to enter the meadow.  As the day passed, no birdsong sounded. The occasional breeze was the only movement, breaking the silence into gentle rustling and the stillness into a quiet play of shadows over the grass.

Next chapter CW: Allusion to self-directed assassination.