She likes spotted black leopard orchids, a ninja sword, green caterpillar blood and cloudless caves full of eyeless bats and wild heart-shaped fungi, hanging, silken spider-vines and heavy cherry-wood treasure boxes full of pristine mummy papyrus and gold rings, small statues, glowing gray scales of forgotten dragon armor, smooth and glistening shell casings, a white-rock-carved spearhead, a worn war-hawk and decapitated combat-hammer, gun-green metal ammunition crates, NATO yellow lettering and ancient Roman coins in a small bronze pouch, a battle-tested and magical military crucifix, a blood-stained Centurion helmet and faded gladiator hand wraps for boxing. Outside, past her pale orchard and deceased training dummies, there are clandestine red rivers of molten lava, an intricate and complex maze of red fern and a quiet whisper of hazy, arrow-shot spirits in the foggy field before a war.