They wanted to kill me at sunset. To march me up onto the moor to the beat of the drums and the bass chanting, to tie my hands and my feet, to put a rope around my neck that could be tightened and loosened for as long as blades and rocks could hold me wavering between life and death. Of course we won’t actually hurt you, the Prof said, I hope you know that, Silvie. It’s just the ritual we want to try, the way it must have looked and sounded, the drums on the moor and the winding of the ropes.
