The red half-moons that the shearing instrument left around her ears, smearing blood over her pallor. She is like a toppled stone goddess, flowers and moss peaking through the fracture lines. The priest did this to her. Him and his Christian order – he tried to capture her, to tame her. Shave her golden mane as though he wanted to pluck the crown from her head, take her divinity from her. Make her less.
