She heard the rats scattering across the stone as dirt fell into the crypt. The little streaks upon the germinating area of an egg, the nervous movements of an impatient horse, the trick of a calculating boy, the senses of a fish, the fungus at the root of a garden flower, and the slime upon a sea-wet rock—ten thousand such things bear their witness and are illuminated. Why should she? she asked rebelliously. There were more of us back then, and we weren’t seen as ghouls, in fact, in Greece and the time before we were worshipped as gods. ‘Playing games to tease me, that’s all he can think of doing. I hate myself!” She collapsed to the floor, sobbing.
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