Clever (squints in the brilliance of her own glow): Grandmamma told me heroic stories, how a relic is needed to do a great task. Lord Jesus carries an iron nail from the cross. Lord Judas wields his noose. And I have a relic! Grandmamma’s rib!
(brings forth from her pocket the walnut, the treasured Golden Bone secure within)
(Vixen and Dog-Head look to each other)
Dog-Head (none-too-gently 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): Dear old Grandmamma forgot to tell you. A mortal keeps secret any relic she might inherit.
Clever (collapse & crash of certainty; sees self with eye of other & observes a fool; deflates, shudders; icy salt-water flushes her heart, her liver):
Clever (unremarkable, anonymous, a child in filthy beggar’s garment; receives back the empty shell):
Vixen (frigid, dreadful): The relic necessary to your task will be won by clever effort. The tool you seek will be found in a place of absolute stillness. A place of no turning. Within the hub of the wheel.
Clever (voice quite small): How do I go there?
Vixen: You leap.