"You don't say?!"
Glaring down at Si'Wren, Sorpiala said to the other woman, "It seems that Si'Wren has not gleaned enough trouble yet. Not content to break idols, she seeks to trip us and break our heads as well!"
Si'Wren lay in the grass, shaking her head in mute, pleading denial as she looked beseechingly up at them.
"The guilty are ever speechless, in the face of their accusers," said another, with a self-righteous, knowing air.
"Come, girls!" said Sorpiala. She regarded Si'Wren contemptuously. "It is our proper duty to see that justice is speedily executed! Let us go and report this new outrage at once!"
"Aye," and "At once!" agreed several others almost in unison.
As one, the group of women turned and hiked up the slope, away from edge of the pond where a trembling Si'Wren sat watching helplessly with tears in her eyes.
"You know, she never could talk clearly, even before," said one indistinctly, as their figures disappeared over the rise.
The last thing Si'Wren heard from them was a sudden chorus of more of that awful, catty, girlish laughter. Then they were gone, leaving her in her torment and abject sense of total abandonment, in the very thrall of terror over what to expect next.
Eyes stung by salt tears, she averted her head abruptly from their departing voices, and found herself staring at the peaceful stream through blurred vision. Rising to her feet, she approached the water unsteadily.