Clever (squints in the brilliance of her own glow): Grandmamma told me stories, how magic relics are needed to do a Task. Lord Jesus carries an iron nail from the cross. Lord Judas wields his noose. And I have Grandmamma’s golden bone!
She holds forth the walnut, her treasure, the Rib secure within.
Vixen and Dog-Head look to each other. Wordless.
Clever (knows herself a fool ... deflates … darkens … trembles, shudders … icy sea-water flushes her heart, her brain, her liver …):
Dog-Head (plucks the Walnut from her fingers ... opens it ... extracts the golden bone): We’ll hold this. For safe-keeping. Until your labor is done.
Vixen (glacial, regal): Grandmamma forgot to warn you. A mortal must keep secret her magic relics.
Clever (nondescript, anonymous, a child in filthy Beggar’s garment; receives back the empty shell):
Vixen (frigid, dreadful): The tool you need will come from a place of absolute stillness. A place of no turning. Within the hub of the Wheel.
Clever (her voice small): How do I go there?
Vixen: You leap.