Magenta sat quietly, sipping her cup of tea. Her feet were soaking in a bucket of warm water, tea tree oil and lavender oil.She looked across at the wise, shimmering horizon, like a huge blue bowl - with orange streaks flaming around the rim.

She looked forward to a good soak in the bath, but right now, she was enjoying the peace. She tried to remember what had happened with those old women, the smoke, the tree. Hilda had explained it was a dream, that her experiences were her own, and did not reflect the culture of those women in any way.

But Magenta felt different. She felt as if she had been acting like a puppet, empty, like a piece of cardboard, and now things were different. She felt that a great load had been lifted from her back.