* * *
Slowly consciousness returned. It was an uneasy sensation since it could not remember the last time it was not aware of what what going on. Eyes focused on the room. Three women were working on seperate tasks. One young, weaving thread finer than any ever seen. Another, a mature woman measuring that thread and holding it for the old woman to cut.
**Where am I?**
"You are in our home, Esprit." the young one replied.
"You thought to trick us, to bend us to your will," commented the one measuring the threads.
"You wish life? We cannot alter the weave without consequences," said the young woman again.
**Consequences?**
"You live, another must die," said the old woman as she cut a crimson colored strand.