Sandra instinctively threw her hands at the invisible ones of her assailant, and screamed. Her palm had been pierced by something sharp - the figure w...s holding a knife! Terrified of being in mortal danger, Sandra curled up in at the corner of the tub, hoping against hope for some intervention that'd restore her normal monotonous life, ending this monstrous nightmare. Yet nothing happened for a second. She could hear another person's breath in the stillness of the dark, feel the throbbing pain. The Chief was an old man. His predation on other women, including Ivory, disgusted her. She was the Chief’s wife not his sex toy. Nonetheless, Ivory nursed her faith in the beneficence of the spirits. Every day she gazed up the hillside in the hope that Glade would return. She visualised her struggling down the slope by herself to announce that the great survivor had once again come through against all odds and all expectations. She had crossed deserts, seas and forests. Surely she could also. More

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