The woman had her back to them then, and was stirring a massive cast-iron pot in which something pleasant-smelling was bubbling. He stared at her. She had pulled back her long sleeves as she worked, and he saw now what it was that he’d instinctively noticed. Her upper arm, between the elbow and the shoulder, had been hollowed out and the skin had turned to glass. Inside the glass were two further glass chambers, linked to each other by a narrow tube. They were filled with ants. The ants kept moving inside the woman’s arm. When she raised her hand, the upper chamber would slowly fill with ants and, when she lowered it, the part nearer the elbow would then fill, as with some forever moving hourglass in which time was suspended in an equilibrium. He said, “You’re a veteran?”

The woman turned to him. She dropped her arm and her sleeve came down and covered it. She shrugged.

“Long ago,” she said.

“Who did you fight for?” the Stranger asked, curious.