Is good. I feel like you saved

One cannot escape. The sting of an arctic zephyr pressed onto every exposed centimeter of Maggie's flesh, leaving those unfortunate bits of skin feeling as if they had been rubbed over a cheese grater. The stars were crisp gems in the frigid dome above, startling and clear as only a winter sky in Iowa can be. Maggie squatted before the bonfire, experiencing temperature extremes to rival the planet Mercury, her front melting from the heat, her backside solid as an icicle. Three pairs of socks and sheepskin boots around her toes, and they were already numb as pebbles. She pushed the thick blanket from her shoulders, letting it drop to the boulder upon which she was sitting. Pitchfork in hand, Maggie turned over the rocks at the center of the fire, one by one. Sparks flew heavenward, red and orange kin to the stars above. The New Year's Eve sweat had begun twenty minutes ago. All had been quiet in the lodge--a low, round structure situated six feet from the roaring blaze. The partints were meditating, calming themselves, accepting the cleansing steam. Maggie did her contemplating outside the lodge, satisfied with helping her friends as fire keeper. Namasté, TomTom, Sunflower and Loki were inside, baring their bodies and souls, opening themselves to cleansing in whatever form it might take. Tor was not in the lodge. He said that he had out-of-town relatives to visit. instagram Namasté wanted to postpone till he could pare, but Tor had insisted they go ahead without him. Maggie had her suions as to what Tor was actually doing. She imagined that plenty of venues sta open late New Year's Eve. Maggie had hoped that Tor would use the sweat to come clean, an act that would be part confession and part buy instagram followers apology at having mismanaged, and possibly squandered, everyone's money. Maggie still wasn't sure if Fennel's death had been Tor's doing, or if her death was just a helpful coincidence that enabled Tor to keep his buy instagram followers goings-on secret. Whatever the case, she judged Tor to be a coward. If it was just about the money, he should own up. All of the Originals would forgive him buy instagram followers eventually, she was sure. The situation could be worked out. That Tor wasn't coming clean bothered her. Lyle wasn't able to attend buy instagram followers the sweat. He was pulling a double shift on this, the most revelrous evening of the winter. The fire crackled. The burning wood shifted. Maggie got up to toss some more food to the sacrificial flames. Figures danced in the licking conflagration, entwining and scuttling apart, dissolving and reappearing elsewhere. Shivering inside her blanket, Maggie was hypnotized. Inside the lodge, Namasté began to sing. The song lifted and fell, led slightly by the hides and carpet remnants covering the lodge. The lyrics were foreign to Maggie, but the sentiment was easy to understand. It was a melody of loss and regret, of tangible remorse. The dirge rocked her, lulled her into vulnerability and she cried, letting herself grieve for Ben a little. Facing the fire, her tears evaporated. Maggie turned her back to the fire for a moment, to warm her other half. Her tears turned crystalline in the chill air. Other voices joined Namasté's. The tune was Native American, the tribe of origin instagram unknown to Maggie. The sweat ceremony itself had been adapted from American Indian tradition, a rite of purification for body, mind and soul. The Originals used the time inside the lodge to work out personal issues. Maggie expected Namasté would focus on her baby, as per Fennel's journals entry on the subject. She