Day 2,136

We didn't question the shrine we found in the woods. The virgin mother carved from ox bones, hair taken from our children and painted in autumn's oranges and reds. We didn't ask who put her there or why or if the church even knew about her - we just left our little tokens and left as soon as we came.

We didn't question when good things came our way afterwards. If our sick were healed and our fortune changed for the better we said nothing to the priests who always assumed we'd been praying to the same deity as them. Their assumptions and ignorance were for the best, we told ourselves.

We started questioning when someone left an offering instead of a smaller token. We wondered what they were after and how much they'd be willing to offer to the virgin mother in exchange for it. We'd always find out sooner or later and it was rarely good news.

We almost considered telling the church about her when someone offered her an entire horse. There is was all splayed and flayed and blood running into countless little grooves and drains we never noticed before. She was prepared to take whatever we offered and return exactly what the offer equalled.

That was the day before the shrine left us with nothing in her place save for a gaping hole in the ground and a pool of blood deeper and fresher than any mountain stream. A few made the mistake of drinking her water and they've not been right ever since.

We almost want her back but if this is what's been beneath her all this time, I dare say it's not worth the cost.