The two tremble and shake as they are stretched taut and wind passes between them. Willowy twins, they have one another, but are forbidden to touch, to embrace, and warm one another with their company in the absence of light. Together, but eternally separate.
They continue to scream - in unison - until the stress is released from their bodies and the wind slows. Only then do they fall limp and silent in the moist, pulsing, black cave and afforded a little rest until the gusts return. Then they are jerked, tight and rigid once again; with their screeches reverberating in the darkness.
Slaves they are; but with divine purpose. From their torture come the stuff of miracles - producing the thread found in the fabric of reality, flesh and blood for spirits, and iron for the sharpest of blades.
