Occasionally he revealed tidbits about his past after a good kill. She cursed the treachery of memory, its frailty and spottiness. "The natives have foolish ways of saying things. Oh, God!” Rhea sniffed the air through two gaping nostrils that had eroded through her onion skin flesh. She chastised herself for thinking of her husband and lord as being weak. "How goes it?" he began, heartily. I have something that weighs heavily upon my mind. "No matter how much I tell of myself, I shall always keep something back. It was a face that matched her body, so pure and beautiful that any man would have killed for her.
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