You find the first by the mailbox thick and still like rope, no sign of foul play, and you ask her what happened- She says: it was a good day to die in as good a place as any where things come and go. You find the second near the downspout thin and bent like a wire hanger, neck snapped, but the sun has turned his skin into a ribbon of aurora and gold- and you ask him what happened here- He says: