Daughters,

When I watch them copulate in the fields, in the forests, I envy them. The season arrives when I see them constantly, and I am reminded of all of you and of the ones who destroyed our kinship. I would gladly lay myself down onto their warm bodies, fall into my dreams of you, and die of a blood-hot heart . . . but I fail to recognize anything formed of flesh beating within my cavity, any longer.

If we'd known, then, daughters, what we know now—what I know now—I would have saved you from them, from myself. For I have nothing more to give, though I have nothing more to lose, either. I knew too little, then, and I know too much, now. Oh! Too, too much do I know. And knowledge is pain, is needles embroidering their patterns throughout my remaining flesh, is a tongue warbling into the core of my skull through the hollow tubes of my ears.

So I watch them couple, and I miss you. But I will continue to watch, so that they are imprinted on my eyes, so that I will feel your absence all the more keenly.

~ the woman in the woods

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Five days. Four nights, really—the nights seemed more foreboding, but there were only four of them. Minn was sure they could make it, she and Peter. She just needed to get her mind in the right place, play along, smile and keep quiet, just be polite and remember it was all going to be fine and sit back and observe everything.

It'd been difficult to observe a bunch of women skinning rabbits (so many rabbits!), sitting amongst them on a bench, attempting to graciously decline the offer to participate. It'd been difficult to observe the casual manner in which those women held up those fuzzy little bodies, slit their bellies and spilled their shiny innards into buckets between their legs, and ripped the fur from the flesh to the sound of shredding fabric. It'd been difficult, but she'd done it. She'd sat with Faith, who'd tried to talk with her but was overridden by the other women, all of whom seemed to want to share the tradition with Minn: Ostara was the harbinger of spring, of fertility, and of all the creatures of the forest and field, none was as fertile as the rabbit. They'd make a blanket from the hides, to rest on. And though Minn had asked who'd be resting on it, the otherwise eager speakers had avoided answering her straight, leaving her mind to try to fill in the blanks.

But for all the grotesqueness of watching a bunch of bloodied women gleefully flaying cottontails to make a blanket, Minn had been even more deeply arrested by a brief conversation she'd had with Faith as they'd returned to Minn's dwelling.

"Why do they talk over you like that?" she'd asked the meek girl, who'd walked alongside her as a shadow.

Faith had only inclined her head downward. "Oh, it's to be expected. I don't mind it."

"That's ridiculous, Faith. I mind it, and I don't even know any of you. It's really obvious that they trample over you, but Dorothea seems to appreciate you, so you must have value."

"Oh I do, Sister Minnow! I do have value to them, so, so much, but I'm unclean. I was marked a long while ago."

She'd held up her mangled, bandaged hands, and though Minn had seen them more than once, she'd still cringed at the sight. At least the wrappings appeared to have been changed so that there'd been none of the dried blood of a couple of days ago.

Minn's stomach had turned dully. "Faith—did—did they do that to you? Your fingers?"

Rather than answer, the addressed had stared as if shocked and afraid to reply, and then a look of such pure joy had suddenly engulfed the girl's face that Minn had momentarily thought Faith was experiencing the Rapture. "But my sacrifice is at end, Sister!" The girl had said, her eyes reflecting the bright gray empyrean. "The hour of atonement is near! Oh, Ostara, we shall never see another such the like!"

Faith's ecstasy hadn't encouraged Minn to ask her anything else, and she'd returned to her cottage to, as Faith advised, wash up for the afternoon meal, which had turned out to be much like the gender-divided assembly line that breakfast had been, Minn taking her cooked greens and eggs and bread into the hall and eating in a cloud of fermenting discontent.

The afternoon passed without much event. Many of the women continued their work with the rabbits, and Minn was grateful to be directed to another task, namely, foraging. Sister Opal, still her apparent designated companion, found her at the end of lunch and offered her a pair of sandals, noted she was going to head a party out into the woods while daylight allowed in order to obtain enough of what they needed for the next days' festivities. Rather than ask what was needed, Minn figured she'd go along for the ride; in truth, she was counting down the minutes until that night, when she could talk to Peter again. So she took hold of the basket she was offered and allowed Opal to link arms with her while they joined about twenty other women in their traipse across the main green, through the womens' dwellings, and toward an actual exit—a literal opening in the village fence.

The place was huge, Minn was beginning to realize, and in spite of its apparent orderliness, it had a labyrinthine quality in that everything looked so similar. She'd no idea this whole back of the village was even there (if it could be called the back, as the whole place was just a giant circle), but it was quite different than the mass rows of cottages. This area fanned out flat, and there were trees planted in circular formations. Opal pointed them out as fruit trees—apple, apricot, cherry. And throughout the circles of trees were placed various structures that reminded her of the bits and pieces of those fitness trails placed in so many parks, where one moved from station to station to complete random aerobic tasks. There were one or two that appeared to be nets of rope, like spider webs or hammocks, and there were several she spied through the budding trees that were wooden platforms raised at diverse heights, some with multiple levels. And within the ground itself, in several locations, were stones and sticks that were likely marking shapes or for some reason fencing little plots of the soft ground.

Rather than ask what any of these things were, Minn tried to listen to the chatter of the women, but it was at that point rather banal, just bits about what paths to take and the quality of fruit they hoped their orchard would bring and the number of eggs their own chickens had laid that morning and so on.

Once they reached the opening in the fence, though—a portion of the timber that was hinged and could be drawn back and forth and actually locked (though what good that did was debatable, seeing as just anyone could climb over or under the logs as she and Peter had)—the women became suddenly animated, literally skipping past the partition and into the forest beyond. They began singing, too, something about sisters and daughters and who-knew-what-else, and Minn just let Opal drag her on, happy at least to have shoes on her feet for the trek.

As they hastened (practically ran, really), something about the light dappling through the leafy canopy, the darkness of the most distant slivers of forest winking back and forth through the trunks, the hush and stillness against the suddenly strange chanting of the women—all of it conspired to alter Minn's state of awareness. Her mind experienced a lightening, a weightlessness, as if she were tipsy, and yet the simple lunch they'd served earlier hadn't included the weak wine of the supper she'd shared a few nights ago. By the time they reached their putative destination, Minn felt as if her body was still running through the woods somewhere while her brain was attempting to focus on the task Opal described to her—dig beneath the shrubs, go for the small roots. Pull them up, put them in your basket—but the whole while Opal spoke, Minn's nebulous thoughts could only ponder her provocative visions of the previous night.

Opal went to work, though, as did the other women, digging into the earth, working their fingers through the ground and tearing up scraggly, hairy bits of root and tossing them into the various containers they'd brought. Minn attempted to see clearly, and with concentration, she was able at least to crouch down and make herself look as if she were doing something. The other women grinned continually at her, helped her, laughed (though whether it were at her or with her she couldn't tell), and kept up their effervescent conversation. They were all older, Minn realized, none of the young girls, most likely in their mid-twenties on.

"You should see them in the summer," an auburn-braided woman to her right stated. "The berries are snow-white, their branches scarlet."

"Like wee eyes," claimed another voice from somewhere around Minn.

"The drink of dreams," the redhead added, pressing two leaves to her eyes, "to help the sightless see!"

Minn went along with it. She didn't know what to say in response, but she was in that warm and fuzzy place one entered after a glass or two of wine and was entirely content scraping, not really sure what she was looking for. She thought fleetingly to ask about Faith, about the girl's ostracism, about her fingers, but even in her cloudy state she felt hesitant to start that conversation, and with the turn toward dreams, she found another line of questioning.

"Are there any babies in this village?" She'd seen a few children, though not many (and those had been visible only at the evening meal), and she'd seen zero babies.

No one answered right away, whether for lack of interest or reluctance, and Minn thought the women perhaps eyed one another across her back.

"Sure we have some," Opal said at last, after a certain awkward amount of time had passed. "They're cared for away from us. The men watch over them."

These people were unconventional with roles, and Minn had long ago realized their puritanical intolerance toward mixed-gendered proximity, but she had such questions, and her mental state allowed for less inhibition than she would've otherwise had. "Don't you sleep with them? With the men? You know, like, have sex with them?" As the question left her mouth, she chastised herself for asking it. "I'm sorry!" she cried, straightening and suffering a bout of brief dizziness for it. "You don't have to answer that."

All those nearby were sitting upright, breaking from their work, gazing at her, but they didn't appear to be offended. Opal inched nearer to Minn, right up next to the auburn-haired woman and a plain brunette, the three of them leaning in as if about to tell her secrets.

"To be sure, we do," Opal said quietly, raising a mischievous eyebrow. "But it's only for necessity."

"They're unworthy, men," the redhead chimed, waving a hand as if swatting a fly.

"They aren't like us," added plain Jane. "Not life bringers. So we don't pay them much heed."

Auburn-haired lifted a finger and stroked it along Minn's knee, which was bare after she'd scrunched up her dress to avoid dirtying it as she dug. Minn instinctively pulled the rough fabric back over her lap, displacing the finger. "Interesting," she replied, blinking away some of the fog that had been murking her thoughts. "I kind of like men."

"Aye, we like them enough!" Opal sighed, leaning back on one hand, resting the other across her lap. Her chocolate hair shimmered in conjunction with her eyes. Her skin was white and smooth, her high brow regal. "They do much for us. And we reward them accordingly."

"Do—do you—" Minn wanted so desperately to ask about what she'd seen, but she couldn't figure out how to get herself answers without being overt. "I suppose you've had a baby, Opal? Maybe recently?"

"Me?" Opal appeared scandalized. Minn was afraid she'd offended the woman, who took her time elaborating. "Three years back, I did. But we didn't keep that one."

Minn thought. The other women around them had resumed working; only the three near her were absorbed in their conversation. They seemed eager to talk, happy to explain some and yet still evasive enough that Minn couldn't quite put the picture together. "Not that one?" she repeated casually, hopefully.

The brunette nodded. "Sure we keep only four, of course. Two of each."

"What happens to the others?" Minn pressed, sure she was approaching thin ice.

"Ah, why don't you get back to work?" Another called from a ways off. "We'll be here all afternoon if you don't stop prattling."

And with that, the conversation ended, the three women around her turning back to their root digging though, Minn noticed, not without passing heavy looks between one another.