A Feather.

She couldn't contain herself.

A cry from lone coyotes made her falter. Her stomach hit the sands; her paws dug into sharp shards of shale. A feathers shaft pinched gently between her teeth fell airily to the ground. Her cheek rolled in it. She could see him now, smell him, feel him. She wished for him. Her maw took in breaths of air that Khonsu fed her, and air that she greedily took indulgence in. The feather curved with her fur, her back rolling dust up into the still winds as she felt her lungs restrict. She missed him. She missed his face. She missed his mind. She got him again. Death coated her pelt as she covered herself in it, pressing her cheek to the barbs and kicking her feet outwards in rejoice.

There were images of Death. Of his voice. Of his breath. Of his pelt. Of his mouth. Of his teeth. Of his fingertips and nails. Of every night they crossed paths in simple company.

And when the dial ticked, there was Senmut. His breeze. His croon. His eyes. His word. His hold. His secrecy. His silent oath. His divinity. An underdog in a veil. A king.

Her cheek rubbed firmly now to the feather, to its barbs, her nose touching its shaft and taking deep inhales of its promise. Of its omen. She didn't care.

She didn't know why she thought of him.

She didn't care.

She didn't know why he followed thoughts after her Death. Her Chaos.

She didn't care.

She thought of him more. She rolled in him more. She found a deep pleasure in it. She replaced Seth in that instance. She whined as she did so, and perhaps it was a filthy one, simply because she knew that somewhere he'd feel it. She knew somewhere he'd find out. And how fun was it, how amusing was it, how thrilling was it as she kicked her legs and bathed in dust, to rattle his tail? It was his fault! His fault! All his fault! Hers! She claimed it now. She claimed the feather and its prophecy. She claimed it as hers and hers alone! Mine! MINE, MINE, MINE!

Her skin shivered as she rubbed the feather on her neck this time, an open-mouthed smile upon her features as she shook her pelt off and simpered.

Hers.

All hers! Why did she have to give it when she wanted it so bad? Stupid! Stupid!

Rashepses chose poorly to hand off his gift, for she wanted it all to herself! She didn't want to give it! 

There too was Khusobek's eyes, the ice and the mockery the pair gave her. But she loved it either way, didn't she? The attention.

And then it was Senmut again and only Senmut, as the dust settled and her mind focused.

On this cold night.