Two Eyes Cenote --the first act--

they are in a new place.

the cat is pampered, coiffed, given good things to eat. they are a god here. the much larger wolves and the dog man protect them. no threat is offered.

the cat wanders the halls this evening, tail aloft. their coat gleams with temporary decorations of flowers, leaves, small amulets woven into soft grey fur.

only the young wolf queen and the priest man may touch them for now.

the cat meows loudly in the corridor for no reason except they chose to do it.

each pass within the hallways, she leaves her perfumed scent behind. moving with the protection of guard and of fellahin, Toula commends them for the work they’ve each done. the place is becoming theirs as thoroughly as the Mesa—she is proud! 
in days she is to become Pharaoh. the thought blends with the call of another God—Bastet, she says smilingly. it is not a summoning, but a reverent acknowledgment; she seeks her fellow tiny Goddess.

It is a horrible noise- horrible in the way a mother is wired to acute discomfort in the cry of her cub.

Rounding a corner her voice is its own hiss, “You are too loud!”

Toula; and a strange shadowed creature near her paws.

“-My Queen!” she pitches herself onto the limestone in a bow of shame, “forgive me.”

the cat is pleased to see the queen, as much as cats are. and cats do not recognize royalty, for they are gods.

in this then, she and they are equals.

the cat purrs. they know this name, and in an eyeblink, it is at last accepted.

the cat kneads the silken shoulder of the goddess wolf in splendid pleasure, feeling the respect which radiates from their chosen companion.

a smug orange look falls upon the second lupine.

She had heard rumor of this creature from priest Akhtar, but had not yet seen it with her own two eyes.
Alien sounds, eldrich; godly. When she turns the corner of the halls along the side of Toula, her mouth falls slack in a wide shape of surprise — a plump, corvid-colored queen.
Bastet. Sister to Sekhmet. Eye of Ra.
And she has chosen Toula.

Toula blinks as she hears her fellahin rounding the corner, but is quite distracted by the doting of The Goddess! she almost misses the words, until the apology comes—
she looks to Bastet, who seems nonplussed. you must be more careful, comes her gentle chiding as her gaze turns back to Eset, though there is a twinkle of amusement. it is a Goddess who walks among us. this is Bastet; She is my guest, and Sister in spirit. better to leave Her gifts and earn Her favor so when She departs, She remembers you well and looks favorably upon you. come, I shall take you to Her altar, and then she bids that she ride with a gentle touch! 
she invites Bastet, offering a shoulder for Her to climb. and there is Zaahira! her right hand, her left, and the Goddess—I have been blessed with good company! what fortune, she thrills with a smile. join us, Toula merrily suggests!

A goddess! This tiny furrier’s muff!?

Rising, embarrassed, she considers them:

A night prowler’s form, no angles of the wolf,
head too round!
Eyes ill-fittingly large for such a narrow face!
Nose fatally tiny,
With whiskers so long!
Tail too skinny!
Paws so miniature!

And then she sees it, dangling from a belly that swings aside with each step: the primordial pouch. She can’t look away. Unbidden comes the strangest desire to place her cheek there…

...but- a goddess?!

bast steps upon their worshipper.

they are elevated. carried. 

the second wolf who comes knows them. accepts their superiority.

the second is aghast.

the cat's tail switches. they strop their claws vigorously in the pelt of the wolf girl queen.

their loud purring is a challenge.

It appears as though Bastet has chosen you, malakti.
For what else could this mean? This creature of all things hideous and menacing, of all things gorgeous and shimmering? Of sickness and health, of life and death?
Her awe falls upon Eset before the little goddess is once again marvelled. Most Powerful Mother, we thank you. Little Lady of Blossoming.

the words of the Mazoi instill much confidence in her. she can not help but stand a little taller. I think perhaps you are right, she breathes, regarding the cat now perched upon her shoulders with a bright smile.
come, she prompts the two women with her with a smile—and now moves to the room where the altar has been made.

The cat looks as though she’s planning something.

Eset cannot fathom what all this fuss is for. Out of sheer duty she falls in step with the women.

But she keeps an eye on that creature.

loafed upon the royal shoulder, the cat stares down the nonbeliever.

and when the moment presents itself, delicate step down deposits the animal onto the floor once more. tail upturned. pumpkin eyes glowing.

a slow blink up into the face of the heathen.

Zaahira's muzzle lowers to press the lightest of kisses to the raven-shaded crown of the Bast's forehead.
Goddess.
Playfulness sparks within her eyes as her gaze flicks from woman to woman. Do you not believe us, Eset? a laugh, buttery smooth; the most genuine sound to spark from her throat in what Zaahira could only assume to have been weeks. We will show you proof.
The room which holds the altar is vast, the walls speckled with aged rock and terracotta. She leans to stretch into a bow, threaded forelimbs out in front of her head, and from her lips comes the mutter of memorized hymn.