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The hut of Jenna the Healer was small, and oppressively hot. She had a large fire burning, even now in Midsummer, on which a half-dozen pots simmered with medicines and salves. Jenna was stirring one large pot with a stick. It bubbled angrily, spitting and hissing specks into the fire. The Healer put the stick aside and turned to Kelle, who had been sitting on her bed staring blankly into the fire. 'Be useful, girl. Help me to lift this pot to the table,' she ordered. Jenna's left arm was but a withered stump, but she was well able to perform all of these daily duties herself. She was simply sick of seeing Kelle sit dumbly for hour upon hour. The girl now climbed slowly to her feet and crossed to beside her host. She was about to pick the simmering pot up with her bare hands when Jenna slapped her. 'Foolish imbecile! Want you to burn the very fingers off your hand? Little use you would be to anyone then.' Jenna handed her a thick wool-filled mitt, which Kelle then used to lift the pot across the room. She started back toward the bed when Jenna called to her again. 'Go you not so quickly, my child. I have another need for you.' Kelle turned back to face Jenna and stood lifeless by the fire. Jenna approached her and ran her finger across the girl's cheek. 'You have not lost your complexion, my sweet. You still have the rosy cheeks of first glow. And such soft, smooth skin.' The woman ran the finger down Kelle's neck, grazing a red line with her nail. Kelle did not even seem to be aware of the touch, and Jenna scratched her all the harder with four sharp nails. One or two of the grazed welled slightly with blood, but still Kelle stood oblivious. 'Go to the bed,' Jenna ordered. Kelle had received such instruction before, and knew to remove her gown as she lay on the bed and parted her thighs. 'No, the other way,' she was scolded. She slipped off the waist-high bed and then bent forward over it. 'Good girl.' Jenna approached her from behind, and in her semi-awareness, she tried to relax her body. She knew it would be easier that way. It was not so much that she was insensitive to pain, more that in her torpor, she simply had little regard for it, and had no thought to struggle or disobey. Jenna had carried a small pot of hot sticky liquid with her to the bed. A thick tapered wooden stick sat in the pot. Jenna gently kicked Kelle's feet further apart and Kelle stared intently at the small patch of peat wall in front of her. It would be over soon enough, she thought, and did not fret or fear. The herbs Jenna gave her to drink each morning eased all care of pain. Jenna stirred the stick to coat it in the tacky substance, then tested the heat with her finger. Yes, hot enough to cause a very slight scald, but not to do serious damage. She pulled the thing from the pot and called Kelle to look back over her shoulder and lick it. Kelle felt the roof of her mouth blister a little, but sucked on the rounded end as she had been bidden. It tasted very sweet of honey and spices which left a sharp heat on the tongue. She heard Jenna breath heavily as she watched. Jenna then recoated the thing, and slid it into her from behind. The ingredients of the lubricant had a property of increasing in heat with time and rubbing, so instead of burning less, the feeling increased the more Jenna thrust the thing into her. Kelle was aware of the sensation, but disinterested. The wall even held more of her attention. Her unresponsiveness always resulted in Jenna becoming angry, and trying all the harder to make her react, but she simply didn't have any concern to try to prevent her own discomfort by pretending to be interested. Jenna soon abandoned her attempt. Kelle was biddable enough, but her inability to enjoy even the most delicious sensation of the warming spice was infuriating. If only she could abandon giving Kelle the poppy drink for long enough for her to be more responsive, but she knew that the girl would then take flight. Jenna knew that her anger at Kelle was unfounded, but at least allowing herself to get angry vented some of the frustration she felt. When Thomias had suggested to her this plan to keep Cabirius from Cybele's side, she had thought that the company of a biddable young woman would be a most desirable side-effect. The reality of living for many moons with a stupefied and senseless creature was very different. 'Why do you not take a walk, Kelle?' she said gruffly. She would at least then be able to satisfy her own passion with the magical salve and rod without this dumb witness. Annia could not believe her luck. As she approached the hut of the Healer, Kelle wandered out alone and set off at a slow pace in the direction of the wood. Annia followed her, slowly drawing closer as they were further from the hut. She caught up with her at the edge of the forest, and fell into step beside her. 'Hallo, Kelle!' she said brightly. 'Its Annia, remember?' Kelle continued on her path oblivious to the younger girl beside her. 'I hope you are feeling well...' she continued. Kelle thought to herself that she preferred the sound of the real birds in the wood to this noisily chirping creature, and she quickened her pace slightly. Annia kept beside her, though, so she slowed again in mute resignation to the company. 'I have been with the Chosen One....' Annia said timidly, waiting for a response. Of course, there was none. 'And the Consort...' Still nothing. 'Do you remember Attis? I remember well the night of the Trial of Priapus. You were with Attis, and I with Cabirius. Do you remember Cabirius? Of course you do, he was our Teacher.' It was like trying to hold a conversation with the very trees around them, but Annia persisted. 'Cabirius was imprisoned, Kelle. Did you know that? He was imprisoned because many believed that it was he who hurt you. Is that true?' Kelle quickened her pace again and headed for the clearing in the centre of the wood. In her dim memory, she remembered that it was a forbidden place, and perhaps this chattering girl would not follow her there. 'We could walk this way,' said Annia, trying to change her course. Although she was of some vague annoyance to Kelle, she could see no reason not to follow. 'We could visit the Cybele's hut in the garden. You like the garden, do you not? I have been told that it was you who tended it before me. The fruit is fully ripe, and I am sure that the Chosen One would happily let you have a peach or apricot.' Kelle's memory was vaguely stirred. The smell of ripe peaches, softly furred and juicy. A bumble-bee humming slowly from flower to flower. Kelle's sluggish attention was drawn to a flash of movement in the thicket to their left. A deer? No, a person. Or perhaps more than one. Usually she saw no-one so deep in the wood, which was why she wandered on this old overgrown path. With only the briefest warning by a shrill scream from the girl beside her, Kelle felt the club strike the back of her head. As she slowly fell to the ground, she was vaguely aware of Annia struggling with them as she was dragged back toward the centre of the wood. All slowly became soft blackness as she smelled the heavy warm earth beside her cheek and let herself surrender to the sleep.
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