They, all alike, many though they be and other star in other path, are drawn across the heavens always through all time continually. But the Axis shifts not a whit, but unchanging is for ever fixed, and in the midsts it holds the earth in equipoise, and wheels the heaven itself around.
Stratus stomps and snorts and treads slowly towards them, breathing getting louder and closer. A silhouette emerges through grey cloud canvas. Bealdric Black Shire strides over the moor. He wears a faint star on his angular face. He draws Avice down into bottomless wells of blackest eyes where secrets of the other world hide.
Idonea and Avice look long and hard at their last food. In silent agreement sisters hold numb, flattened, tentative fingers in front of their narrow chests and out into icy fog, an offering. Yellow dominoes pierce and sink into hard fruit, making easy pieces of it. Chewing and chomping with ravenous enjoyment of sweet crunchy pleasures, Bealdric recalls green and russet memories of long gone summer treasures.