The days of the Long Cold are done. Because of this one brave, new-thinking man, summer lives in the winter… — Ray Bradbury

The scythe fell and lay in the grass like a lost smile.

O autumn winds that bake and burn

And all the world to darkness turn,

Now storm and seize and make of me…

A swarm of leaves from Autumn’s Tree!

“What’s happening, Mr. Moundshroud? Where are we?”

Moundshroud struck a flinty finger into fire and held it up. “Why, bless me, boys. It’s the Dark Ages. The longest darkest night ever.”