Full moon. The brazen eye of midnight scans the black and swollen mountains oozing fire high over the indifference of the sleeping plains hazed with the perfumed smoke of death and fear under the radiant zenith. It is not far from here to the wild flags of havoc flying out of the doomed and bannered trees before the west wind, hilarious hunter plying nets and whips of flame, the trumpet playing a ghastly fanfare.