"Why do we march?" I ask my mom as she tucks me in to bed. "There are bad people out there, we have to march to save them." She tells me. Meet Harley, a flower child. From as long as she could remember her mother tied flowers in her hair, she wore dresses with pants and converse, and they marched every weekend with baskets of flowers on their arms. Harley is about to learn that she is extraordinary in more ways then one. When the grass starts to die, crime gets worse, people start dying, and the world blows up into chaos, it is up to Harley to fix it.