There was silence in the little cottage for a long time after the crone had finished her tale. The three women were silent letting the words and emotions echo through the tiny room, even as birds chirped cheerfully in the late afternoon sun in the little garden. Finally Hillie straightened up and sent Lena to the cupboard to retrieve the dustpan and broom to clear off the shards on the floor while she went to the green bound book and removed it off the shelves. She held it together with the book Lena had assembled and watched as the young woman carefully swept up the shards, the tea having dried of long before.<br/><br/>"Gretchen," asked Hillie, clearing her throat, "who will translate the tablets for me?  Can you? Father Daniel is of no help."<br/><br/>After Gretchen answered Hillie took Lena's hand and they walked back to their housing.  Hillie told Lena she was putting her on the last bus out of town, they had an hour to pack her things and get her to the bus stop. Lena bristled, and fussed but Hillie held steadfast to her resolve.<br/><br/>"Child, you must re-examine things before taking your final vows. Being a bride of Christ is not an alternative, it is a free choice given with a glad heart. It cannot be done while you are second guessing your decision. It isn't something you do because you didn't get to do something else. Go to the address I will give you, a friend of mine with a farm in the country. I will call her, you can work there and reflect your decisions in a peaceful setting far away from here. Stay here and the demon will destroy you."<br/><br/>---<br/><br/>It was late and dark by the time Hillie walked back to her room, tired, sore and hungry though lacking the appetite to do anything about it. Pelle's seed had dissipated and with it the constant visions. Would she find what she was looking for without it? But she could not risk the demon seeing when she found the tablets. It was seeking them as well, was craving them. Was that what it was all about? The tablets and the incantations therein? She wished she had the guidance of Father Daniel, he was still a man of the cloth, more deeply knowledgable than she, and she needed his guidance. She decided to visit him, even at his late hours and beg for his help, plead with him, whatever it took. He had to understand, he was a smart man, he was learned, surely he had to see reason. Her desperation was great, the desperation of his entire town was great, he had to help. He had to.<br/><br/>She didn't realize how wrong she had been until she stepped through the door of his little parish home.<br/><br/>"Father Daniel? Please, I must speak with you. Please!" A familiar odor hung in the air, one she had smelled in the church and again in Sylvia's kitchen, and her knees began to buckle.