The woods are dark and deep and you have no promises to keep, except to yourself. Death In Her Hands takes up the thread from Eileen and My Year Of Rest And Relaxation and reduces it to one woman alone in the woods, increasing paranoia and confusion, finally granted agency when the life where she might have used it is behind her. A demand for a mystery when you can't live with the answers you have? Metafiction that dismisses itself and always returns to the dark woods.