In that one horrific second she had seen herself, she actually glimpsed the back of the empty eye socket, the sun rays illuminating it a pale pink.
Her first thought was: what woman would ever want me now?
With tears running down her face, she forced herself to dip her hand in one of her freshwater jars, and commence the act of trimming her hair.
Two hours later, she had regained her composure, and told herself she had behaved foolishly. Poorer women didn’t care so much about how women with substance looked, not like they did in those silly romance novels she’d been reading. That had not helped. Her experience told her that members of the fairer s*x were drawn to confidence and power, and she had never felt more of either in her life.
When she had reestablished herself back in civiliza
