The old man was the one who found the young woman lying motionless in a ditch, her dress stained with mud and blood, her hair swept back in disturbed waves. The teeming rain had soaked her pale skin, and her eyes were half-open, her mouth slightly ajar. He knelt beside her, put the lantern on the ground, and took her arm, pressing his fingers into her wrist. There was no pulse.
He turned his head and saw, about thirty yards away, another night wanderer. “I’ve found her”, the old man called out. The night wanderer rushed towards him, navigating the hill’s sludgy curves. “Go find a doctor”.
But the other man was upon them now and he shone his torch over the young woman. “Dear God”.
“Get a doctor”, the old man waved his hand at the new arrival trying to break the spell the girl’s body had over him. “She needs a doctor. Go find a doctor”.
The night wanderer turned and ran away while screaming at the top of his lungs. “He’s found her! She needs a doctor!”
His cries set the hills ablaze with the glow of two dozen swaying lanterns. The people who came stopped just behind the old man and looked at the girl, their faces a mix of sorrow and worry. Some turned and whispered lines that the old man couldn’t quite hear, but he was able to pick out a few words, one in particular: murder.
A woman pushed through the crowd and fell besides the young woman. She was wearing a dress most inappropriate for this type of marshy environment, but she cared not as she scooped the young woman up in her arms and patted her face.
“Rose! Rose can you hear me? Rose, please say something”.
The old man backed away from the mother and removed his cap from his head. He cast his gaze to his shoes and closed his eyes in silent prayer. The mother’s cries were excruciating to hear as slowly the truth that her daughter was dead dawned upon her. He looked down the hill and saw the women of the village climbing up to the crowd. A few of their men moved downwards to intercept them and turn them back and save their virgin eyes from this wicked sight.
The doctor arrived at last. He plucked Rose from her mother’s bosom and examined her. But there was no hope, and soon he released her back to her mother and stood beside the old man.
