The Empress
The woman is so unspeakably exhausted she has forgotten her old life as if each memory slipped easily through a seive and was absorbed by hungry foreign soil. The faint echo of a child's voice still fills her ear no matter how many times she swats the insect buzz away. A claw of cirrus clouds have strafed jagged white tears through the sky's ocean blue. She has walked through enough days and nights to observe the moon wax and wane, completely dissapear then reemerge. Early into her journey, the laced leather shoes unhinged themselves at the seams and slid carelessly from her ankles until she stopped momentarily to tear strips from her underskirt and bind the shoes to her feet like bandaged dressings. Her hair hangs loose like an oiled snake down her back. She regrets the stays she abandoned days back, thinks of the boning she could fashion to tip her arrows. Her dogs baying at the edge of a meadow announce danger or the discovery of a strange scent. The dogs are circling a stag, snarling and snapping at its muscled legs. The animal is menacing her pack with his impressive antlers. It is only a matter of time, she thinks and is suddenly overwheled with a feeling of peace and a strong desire to sleep. She lies down in a fairy circle of heather and begins to dream. Mother! Her mother emerges from the ground wearing a crown of wheat. Her arms are filled with pomegranates. She is smiling. When the woman awakes, her dogs lie nearby, their bloodstained jaws slack in slumber. She can feel him watching from a distance. She knows she must wait, still.
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