In fine, she felt more like the Kathlyn of old than she had since completing the leopard in her outdoor studio.

It occupied her thoughts, at least part of them, for she realized that mayhap her life depended upon her skill in reproducing the hideous idol.
As the two old hypocrites saw the clay take form and shape and the mocking face gradually appear, they were assured that Kathlyn was indeed the ancient priestess; and deep down in their souls they experienced something of the awe they had often inspired in the poor trusting ryot.
Kathlyn had talent bordering on genius.

The idol was an exact replica of the original one; more, there was a subtle beauty now where before there had been a frank repulsiveness.

It satisfied the holy men, and the unveiling was greeted by the villagers with such joy that Kathlyn forgave them and could have wept over them.

She had made a god for them, and they fell down and worshiped it.
Five more days passed.