Where is we? The Bunnykinz asked. We are in the Garden of Bone and Ivy, but long before the bone was formed, she said cautiously.
The moonlight shone through the dead trees, the blood gave it all an eerie red glow. The field of dead roses looked dull, wasted, skeletal. The blood seeped from the ground around the dead bushes. Ivy wove around the ruins of the tower, in the shadow of all that was now gone. Choking what little life it thought it had left.
Time had caught up with imagination, dreams had shifted and the ribbons of green wove a pretty pattern with the red through her dark hair. The bunny was white, but a spot of pink was upon his head. He had taken to wearing a hat.
She turned her back and heard the earth start to rumble. Slowly it would all rot and sink back into the ground. But the ground was stained with the blood of a thousand tears. She could not go back here. She would not go back there.
The dead should be left to sleep.
The ritual was finally, exhaustingly, done.
She faced the sky, the stars winked at her a billion times. She gathered up her Bunnykinz and started to walk away from the crossroads, a new path had begun.