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A furious wind whipped at the Isle from the Arctic north. Attis lay on his face with his arm over Cybele's naked woad-patterned body. The fire roared heartily. Ah, the luxury of the Chosen One, to have wood for so hearty a blaze that they needed no blanket in mid-winter. The Goddess looked after her own, he thought. Cybele seemed uneasy, and sniffed at the storm-charged air. 'They are out,' she said in an alert tone. 'Sleep,' he said, ignoring her. 'We have never slept together, and well you know it. I would trust you in my bed while I slept no more than an adder.' He smiled into the pillow. 'You like my adder well enough.' Now she ignored him. 'We should seek them out while they do their sacrifice.' 'What harm as the Crone done to you? Let Cerridwen have her blood and be done with it. No-one has asked you to participate.' 'Do you not wish to know who it is that pays such barbaric homage to the Goddess?' she asked. 'I know already,' he said dismissively. She was shocked. 'And you told me not?' she demanded. 'You asked me not.' 'For certain, you would not think I wished to know? I am convinced at times, my dark lover, that you are for the Crone yourself Methinks sometimes I hear you call to her as you spill, 'Hecate.'' He laughed again into the bed, but did not answer. 'I am surprised you are not with them in the ring of stone, but keep so long to my bed.' 'It is warmer here surely than outdoors, and warmer than my hut in the Hall of Priests, even with Cabirius to heat my bed.' This would have been a cruel jest if Cabirius had been present to hear it. He slept beside Attis in the Hall only in the manner of all the communal Halls, but not as lover. Cabirius's lover was this one under his own arm, but Cabirius had the courage to visit her only very late at night when her passion had already been well satisfied by Attis. She pulled out from underneath him and crossed the room to dress in a robe and thick heavy cloak. 'What will you do if you find them with a lamb held above the stones? Beg them no in the name of the Goddess as Mother?' he laughed wickedly. 'That is better than doing nothing while the Isle turns ever further toward the third face of the Goddess. You would just lie there while it happens? Remember you well, Attis, my comforts here would disappear if she won.' 'Then I would become lover to some toothless old Priestess to keep my privileges,' he smugly mused. Cybele tossed a wooden mug at him, but he deftly spun out of the way, then lay on his back with his arms crossed behind his head. She noticed that his body had changed considerably in the four moons of their intimacy. More and more he developed the signs of manhood. Soft curling down grew up toward his navel now, and his arms swelled with muscles of easy grace. Those red little nipples and birthmark on his broadening chest, that she so liked to bite... They had even grown a little fond of each other, as much as two stoats can do. She liked to think of herself as two people - one woman with Attis, another with Cabirius. Somehow this numbed the infidelity of it for her. She even guessed that this strange situation may have been the intention of the Goddess - she was to be the Virgin Hebe with the gentle Cabirius, and the Mother Ceres with Attis. These were the two faces of the Goddess that she would accept. The third more sinister face, she refused right of cycle. Besides, three lovers she could not cope with, she thought to herself cheekily. But it was a serious matter. If the Crone aspect tried to assert herself in this changed and bloodless world, it was possible that the Goddess would lose what tiny hold she still had. The Priests' male God had evolved over these past generations from mere Consort to one who required the company of no Goddess. They rarely spoke his name any longer, he was just 'the God'. Yes, she must do what one person can to protect this one last refuge of the Goddess, the Isle of the Moon. She made for the door, but to her surprise, Attis leaped from the bed and made move to come with her, grabbing quickly at his own gown. 'If you go alone, I would have to lie thinking that it may be your own blood being splashed on the stones. That would be most inconvenient for me, for then I would have to train another,' he said insultingly, but she felt some small measure of affection. 'Or you could offer yourself as the next Chosen One, for you bear the crescent mark as much as I. ' 'I think neither allegiance would accept me with both the mark of the Goddess and the phallus of the God,' he joked, although she thought with a shiver that he would have long ago stuck a blade between her ribs if it had not been true. He acted as Consort, but more truly he saw himself with the same right to be leader as she. 'Does Cabirius not expect you for a lesson?' she asked, realising how late it was now in the afternoon. Attis laughed with easy pleasure as he dressed. 'My friend is admitting defeat. He had dropped the lessons to only every third afternoon. I honestly try, ' he grinned sarcastically, 'but I guess I am a dunce.' 'You are more wise than a old woman, and more sly than a fox.' 'Thank you,' he smiled. 'I meant it as no compliment. You are a danger to all, including yourself. You are too clever by half.' 'Well, then let this clever wise sly dunce lead you to the heart of danger in the storm,' he said with casual ease, then opened the door before her. They covered their faces with hoods as they made their way through the wood in the lashing rain. The circle of stones was a forbidden place, but of course nothing was forbidden for the Goddess's earthly aspect, Cybele. Not that any would see them in this weather, apart from whoever it was that braved each heavy storm to make a sacrifice. As they approached the clearing, they saw some small movement ahead. The person saw them at that same instant through the trees, and took flight in the far direction. They broke into chase, but then pulled to a halt when they came into the clearing and saw a body slumped in the centre of the ring. Cybele quickly made a decision. 'You follow !' she called through the squalling rain, pointing at the figure who had disappeared into the far trees. Attis ran swiftly and disappeared into the thick wood. The body lay in a huge pool of blood. It was one of the older Novices, she guessed from the robe. As she came closer, she knew it to be Kelle without needing to see the face. So it was human sacrifice, then. The Crone had developed a more powerful following than she had supposed. She slipped to her knees and felt the girl's throat from behind for a pulse. It was weak and fluttering, and unnaturally fast, but at least it was there. So much blood, though, the girl would surely die. With the dark green gown heavily soaked with rain it appeared quite black, and the place of the wound was not to be easily seen. She rolled the girl onto her back, and saw that her robe had been slashed open. There was a long oozing cut above her breasts, but it did not look like the source of all this blood. Cybele pulled open one of the girl's eyes, and it stared blankly, fully dilated and responding not to the light from the sky above. Cybele pulled fully open the girl's gown to try to find the main wound and staunch the bleeding. She found small scratches about the girl's abdomen and buttocks, and some other signs as well, but no large injury. She covered Kelle again in the gown and pulled off her own heavy cloak to act as blanket. The breathing was now irregular and shallow, and the pulse fluttered like a moth. It seemed that she was very near to death, and Cybele was almost pleased when Attis came loping back into the clearing, even though it meant his had lost his quarry. She half-wondered how serious Attis's pursuit had been once he was out of her sight, as he seemed not too exhausted. 'Did you catch sight even of him?' she asked. 'Him? I did not even get close enough to be sure of that.' 'I am sure of that much,' she said gloomily. 'Why so? Did you catch better glimpse that I?' 'No. I will show you later. She is dying, Attis. Do we stay with her here in the rain until the end, or do we try to move her and hasten the process?' Attis looked down at the unconscious face of the one even more responsible for his position as Consort than Cybele herself. 'Kelle...' he said vaguely, and bent forward to kiss her cold swollen lips. Cybele felt no jealousy, only compassion. Attis blinked slowly and licked his own lip. 'You are right. A man,' he said. Cybele looked to the ground and shook her head in dismay that any person could do such harm to another. 'Can we stem the wound?' he said without hope, looking at the blood all around them. 'I can find it not. All I can think it that it is... internal.' They both kneeled in morbid silence. As she stared at the ground, Cybele gradually focussed on a small white tuft in the grass that spread over the stone. She reached and picked it up, then inspected it more closely. She then looked quickly about her and noticed more similar specks and tufts. She held the small clump to Attis. 'What is that?' she asked urgently. He looked at her uncomprehendingly. 'Wool,' he said simply. 'New wool. Not here since the last storm, surely.' 'So?' 'Attis, think you a farmer came here just now to shear a sheep in the storm? No! We must get Kelle back to the settlement, she may yet live. It is not her blood!'
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