In response to query gypsy utters mystifying quintilla:
“Behind articulated sheath
Raw, bloody fingers of death squirm,
Entwine, entangle, reconfirm
Each bullet prised from underneath
Decaying heart suffused with worm.. “
Madeleine replays words over and over inside mind. “Articulated sheath?” she finally says aloud. “Articulated sheath.. articulated sheath.. could that refer to.. a glove?” Again she reviews strange gypsy poem. Descended from one mortal and one superhuman parent Madeleine respects esoteric knowledge but often struggles to translate gypsy’s proclamations. Assembled search party has grown impatient with Madeleine’s confusion. “Maybe your half-breed intuition ain’t working today.” one of them says sarcastically. Pivoting sharply on high-heeled boot Madeleine announces definitively: “Fallen gunfighter has hidden silver bullets inside her black gloves. She pried shells from still-beating heart while she lay dying. Now we must locate her decomposed corpse. Those bullets are my legacy..”
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