I screamed when she drew the dagger across her own wrist, swiftly cutting through flesh and muscle. Blood spurted from her wrist, swiftly soaking into the dirt floor as she collapsed.
Finnola and the Ripper disappeared. I was still in the same hut, but there was an older woman, wearing a long faded gown and a cloak. Grey-haired, she leaned over the fire in the hearth, dropping ingredients into a pot, which smoked and flared with a green light. She chanted softly beneath her breath for a few minutes, stirring the contents of the pot. When she straightened up and turned towards the table, I saw a great deal of similarities between her face and mine, although she was clearly much older. I didn't think she was another reincarnation of Finnola, but it occurred to me that perhaps she a relative
