Blowing on the painting seemed fruitless at first. After all, it was just a painting after all, albeit a very realistic one.
But suddenly, something miraculous happened. From within the painting was the sound of a gentle breeze, rustling through the grass. Time proved that it was not just a sound. The grass inside the image began to actually move. It waved around, dancing in the wind. Soon enough, the arms of the windmill began to budge. They turned more and more quickly, until they kept the same gentle pace. The woman did not even need to continue blowing. The wind moved continued on its own, keeping both grass and windmill moving.
The painting of the crone changed behind the woman's back. It no longer portrayed the crone, but a slightly younger woman. It was obvious that the subject was the same person, and although she was still somewhat elderly, it was a younger age than before. The face was slightly... familiar.
She kept the same pose as before. However, in her outstretched hand was something quite bizarre. Some sort of powder, reddish brown like some manner of rust. It almost appeared as if the subject held it out to show the woman something.
