5. ‘And how is it that you have acquired this garb of a religieuse?’ he asked as she fitted the veil over her head. He mumbled an apology and then stopped short. She passed him silently as she dropped Michelle’s dried corpse into the open clay pit awkwardly, like a discarded doll. She leaned over and kissed his cheek innocently. Without a word or a gesture, the Wastrel turned and staggered forth, out of the orbit of these two, having been thrust into it for a single purpose already described.
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