Back to the gravity field of the mill-wheel. Gravity is a mild and shape-shifting force.
The field keeps vigil — ears in the trees, eyes in the grasses. On watch for Clever's restoration.
Birds hover above.
Vixen crouches below, in the root of a dead sycamore.
The Alchymist roosts in its hollow bole, that wily philosopher having taken on the guise of Lord Judas’ bird, a wise and wicked owl. Being averse to daylight, he prefers the dim interior of the tree.
His madness grips the field. Small birds know it and are terrorized.
Clever (never a girl to be silent): I am returned! To save Vixen from her angry lover.
Owl-Chymist: First, let us address your questions.