( All at once, her hair is forgotten, her cleansing neglected. She slithers, turning towards the man and coming, gently, to crouch, then stand — unbothered by her nudity, gaze selectively downcast.

Those who meet her eyes yet relive their worst sorrows, this she knows, this she has learned. )

Matthias. His name. What do I make of him? ( Laughter, shrill. ) He did this to me. Do you know, clothes crackle and burn on me. Shoes wither. My body is whipped by the wind, my soles bleed. I have no rest.

( She is ever in movement, ever pursued. )

He did this to me, then he told me, your husband hunts you. But I can keep you alive. If you only... run.

( And so, on her horse, with her armies. Forever, eternally chased. )