A dozen buckets of water were flung on the pile, and the flames fell to smouldering ashes.

The smoke thinned, and I saw the circle of my tormentors.
The chief spoke, and asked me if my purpose still held.
With the cool shock of the water one moment of bodily comfort returned to me, and with it a faint revival of my spirit.

But it was of no set intention that I answered as I did.

My bones were molten with fright, and I had not one ounce of bravery in me.

Something not myself took hold on me, and spoke for me.