The woman prodded the charred corpse a while longer; each time her long nails touched the blackened shell, tiny bits of ash scattered into the air. She felt she had reached the end of her patience; with a sigh, she shook off the coal from her hands and cleaned her fingers with an irritable motion. She stepped away from the edge of the yellow liquid, her footsteps echoing faintly on the stone floor of the cave. In one corner of the cave, a thin stream of water trickled down the wall; she reached out her hands and washed the coal marks beneath the cold flow. As the water trickled through her fingers, the weariness of the day settled heavier on her shoulders. She turned to the stone steps leading to the upper floor, her robe dragging behind her with every step.
When she reached the upper level, she slipped off her robe. The fabric glided to the ground, curling like a shadow in the cave's dim light. Without the robe, her body was revealed; slender, yet strong in silhouette. The day's exhaustion was etched into her skin like a map. Her shoulders were slightly slumped, her waist narrowing in a delicate arc. The body hidden beneath the dark green fabric was now free; with every movement, the faint play of her muscles shimmered softly in the light reflecting from the cave's crystals. Slowly, she pulled out more comfortable clothes from her leather bag: a loose linen shirt and soft gray trousers. As she dressed, her fingers glided gently over the fabric, as if even that simple act granted her a moment of peace. But the dullness in her eyes betrayed the weight of monotony.
She turned to a stone hearth in one corner of the cave. She lit a small fire; the flames came to life, dancing among the twigs. Smoke rose like a gray serpent, but the woman waved her hand and directed the smoke into a small glass bottle. The smoke obeyed as if by magic, curling into the bottle with a soft hiss as she sealed it. She tossed her leather bag onto the bed; the bag, like a bottomless pit, kept producing items. Herbs, mushrooms, small stones… and finally, two scrawny rabbits. She placed the rabbits on the counter and took her knife. As she plucked their fur, her fingers moved quickly but mechanically; it was as if she had done this thousands of times. She removed the organs, cleaned the insides, and with each motion, blood dripped onto the counter. She placed the rabbits over the fire and crouched down, watching the flames.
By the fire, her head was slightly bowed, as if lost in thought. Her eyes were swallowed in the dance of the flames, but her gaze was fixed on a distant void. A faint sigh escaped her lips, as if the monotony of life was leaking from her lungs. The weight of boredom had settled over her like a shadow; every day was the same—forest, herb gathering, solitude. She threw herself onto the bed, the thin mat spread over the stone floor creaked softly. She lay there for a while, staring at the dim shimmer of the crystals on the ceiling. But soon, the scent of roasting meat filled the cave. She sighed and sat up, approached the fire. She turned the rabbit meat with a stick, then placed the cooked meat onto the stone table. She ate slowly, her jaw falling into a mechanical rhythm with each bite. When the meal was finished, she waved her hand in the air; a gust of wind extinguished the fire in one breath, leaving only the faint scent of smoke behind.
She decided to go back downstairs. The stone steps were cold under her bare feet. When she reached the lower level of the cave, the dim glow of the pool filled with yellow liquid greeted her. Slowly, she began to remove her clothes. The linen shirt slid from her shoulders; the trousers slipped down her legs, pooling on the stone floor like a shadow. Her naked body emerged in the cave's cool air, her skin softly glowing under the crystal light. Her jet-black hair cascaded down her back like a waterfall; her eyes, of the same dark hue, seemed to have swallowed the night—deep and mysterious. Her body was delicate yet resilient; her hips and breasts were underdeveloped, her oblique muscles subtly defined. Her pelvis bones formed a wide V under her skin. Her skin was smooth as silk, the chill causing the hair follicles to rise in a soft shiver.
But the truly mesmerizing thing was the markings covering her body. From her lightly pinkened heels to her neck, black, lightning-like patterns coiled across her skin. These markings seemed like the brand of a curse or an ancient spell; each curve traced the contours of her body, making her appear both feral and fragile. The woman wrapped her arms around her chest, hugging herself against the chill. She slowly walked toward the pool, reaching the opposite corner of the yellow liquid. As her foot touched the surface, a soft sigh escaped her lips; "Ahh…" The liquid was warm and silky, enveloping her body. It spread all around her, rising up to her shoulders; her hair floated on the surface like a blot of ink.
She stayed like that for one, maybe two hours. Silence blanketed the cave like a shroud. Then, suddenly, she began to murmur to herself. "Hey, don't be mad at me," she said, her tone tinged with a hint of mockery. "After all, I let you into my bath. You should be grateful." Her eyes drifted to the charred corpse lying at the other end of the pool. The silence grew heavier, like a reply. The woman sighed, furrowing her brow. "When are you going to wake up? I'm so bored." Her voice now sounded pleading, every syllable heavy with the weight of loneliness. When no response came, her lips pursed in a pout, like a sulking child. Slowly, she rose from the pool, the liquid cascading down her body in droplets, forming small puddles on the stone floor. The cold bit at her skin like needles; she shivered, hugging herself again. One last time, she looked at the charred corpse; in her eyes, a mix of curiosity, impatience, and a sliver of hope. Then, silently, she walked away.