A wind chime jingles in the soft evening breeze. The warm air is heavy with the scent of lavender.
A farmer tends to her lavender fields, reaping what she's sown- armfuls and armfuls of flowers, as beautiful as they are fragrant. She deposits heap after heap onto the back of a small, black and white horse, who carries the baskets easily.
The farmer hums as she works, her mares' ears swivel to take in the tune. Here and there cuts the scythe, only the most chosen of stalks. A...
