Evie hangs her mind in sorrow for just an instant when she knows she is truly only. She feels like she’s going to her execution, just as he had stated. Then she techniques forward once again. She hops a fence of fieldstone and crosses a field dotted with Queen Anne’s lace. Goose bumps rise on her behalf arms as she passes the cluster of windmills that she’s observed in a dream. The scent is definitely sweet in the field though, not the scent of heat, enjoy it have been when it had been forced upon her in visions. She gazes down the hill, beyond the tiny, whitewashed house that she knew would be there. The church looms dark and grim using its rough-hewn, timber facade, capped by tall, oblong spires reaching to the sky. Black, ominous clouds have gathered above the roofline, as if Heaven is showing her the way.