Long moments, perhaps even hours, later as the keening music gradually faded into a light rushing and then into a hush palpable as a thick down coverlet, it seemed all nature held its breath. There was no sound.Far, far above, dark clouds scudded across the pale moon and gathered on the other side. A glint lit the white starkness of the tall plinth the woman (And a low male voice droned: Does this woman have a name?)found herself draped over.

Half lying there, slowly believing, the titian-haired thin woman with coal-black eyes stirred tentatively. Yes. Her legs were free. She slid a dirt-stained hand down her leg to her booted feet. The rustle of her hand across the fabric was loud in the night.