Obscurity, The Fortieth Chapter

In which the truth is revealed.

We last read The Thirty-Ninth Chapter, in which a baby was born into the swamp. If you have recently joined us, start with The Prologue.

In the morning, she set an old copper kettle to boil. It was dented and worn, its patina tarnished, but it was perhaps the most beautiful thing the woman owned, and she treasured the heirloom as though it were fine china. As steam rose from its spout, she lifted it from the stove and poured it into the basin, kettle by kettle filling it with warmth, and imbibing the room with steam.

By the time she had finished drawing her bath more than an hour had passed and the elapsed kettles of boiling water had layered over one another with a contented heat. The woman disrobed, draping her robe to the side so that she might sink into the waters, slowly warming her limbs until even her fingers and toes settled into that divine soup. The waters were a salve, a warmth she sunk into. Her breath drew in the warm, wet air and was nourished by it. Her muscles could not cling to their burdens any longer and were released from them. Even her heart sighed of its anguish, at last released of the memories it clung to, so that it might beat free, her body at last filled with wellness and peacefulness and contentedness.