She was not altogether surprised when she found a deer, gutted of its entrails and strung with a garland of flowers, on the cave’s doorstep one humid summer morning. But there is need for the proof that I am me, and that is what I look for. Prior to the great adventure, her mirrors had been the still pools in the rocks after the ebb. Men had tried to kiss her— unshaven derelicts, some of them terrible—but she had always managed to escape.
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