Two Eyes Cenote Subwoofer Lullaby

For @Eset

Tired. She was so tired.

Bone-deep exhaustion weighed down the thick, winter-ready coat, each heavy step leaving a deep impression in the sands. Eira's paw prints, once distinct, had begun to merge into a single, dragging trail as her energy waned.

The cenote loomed ahead, a distant promise drawing nearer with every faltering step. She clung to the hope it represented, whispering silently to herself, We'll find him soon, baby.

A call rang through the air, I am here! Please come and meet me.

Muat-riya held its breath.

The entirety of the palace was under strict supervision, even as hebsut and mazoi remained opposed in light of their prisoner’s revelations.

Eset kept her hand upon the figurative dagger, tightly surveying foods to be served and frequently inspecting bedchambers during morning tidyings. The palace was to accept no strange gifts and areas of particular import were under safeguard by nightfall. She’d become more vigilant with visitors, but they arrived in no fewer numbers, often succumbing to the brutal heat that was the desert in high summer.

The woman who’d manifested today was no different, only she wore a thick mountain coat that put her at a greater risk than those born of the lowlands.

“Good day, my Lady,” the hebsut bows after trotting out into the sands to meet with her, “I am Eset, hebsut to Pharaoh Muat-riya Isetnofret Toula of Akashingo. How may I serve you?”

Why, greetings, Eset, the woman replied with a courteous nod, her voice soft yet resolute. A polite smile spread across her face, a face that might have seemed good-natured if not for the weary determination in her eyes, as though she were summoning all her strength to stay upright, I am searching for someone, a fugitive. He is mighty dangerous, and I fear he might be in the area.

Though her voice remained steady, a hint of anxiety crept in. Might we continue this conversation somewhere out of this dreadful heat? she asked, delicately pressing a wrist against her brow.

“Right this way,” the hebsut leads for the cenote, mustering a calmness when internally she reels. Is this who she is meant to watch out for? This apparently gentle, elegant figure? Whatever she had expected- surely it was not her. But Eset knew power had a way of concealing itself and that no woman should be underestimated.

Instinctively, her eyes search the sands for the distant shape of Khusobek. Where there was one informant, likely there were others.

They found a place to sit within the shade of her meeting room where a fellahin offered their guest water and two legs of hare.

“May I have your name, my Lady?” The hebsut asks as she lowers into a seat.

My friends call me Eira, the owner of that epithet responded, practically melting into a puddle of fur as she sat and graciously thanked both host and fellhain alike. The one who had pulled her from the blistering heat into this gloriously cool room was, without doubt, a friend.

It took all of that poor lady's self-control to not immediately down the water, instead taking a sip (a rather long one but a sip regardless), and turning her gaze back to the young woman before her. It's a pleasure to meet you, but I do wish it could have been under better circumstances. May we pretend we've known one another for a long time and speak plainly?

The hebsut follows the woman with her eyes, an uneasiness knotting her belly, both for her state of exhaustion and in anticipation of what she had to share. Gently, Eset asks the fellahin for more water to be brought to their spent visitor.

“Please do, Lady Eira. If there is a threat to Muat-riya I must hear of it.” She quiets then, encouraging the woman to take the floor.

Thank you, Eira responded, taking another drink of the cool water as she steadied her thoughts. As I mentioned, I am searching for someone... or rather, something, a monster, and a dangerous one at that.

A Moroi, might be the closest name for what he is. A spirit rising from the body of a child born dead to feed on the living. A most dreadful creature, not to be trusted. He is known to me as Hasdrubal, but I would not be surprised if he has since begun introducing himself by another name.

She listens, focusing on those red fireweed eyes that sat before a worried countenance. She was not so quick to dismiss the woman’s story as hearsay- not when the spirit of a God could possess a mortal being and alter their state of consciousness. It could be drivel. It could be truth.

She thought of Machiavelli, worsening by day in the bowels of the palace.

“What has… Hasdrubal done to you?” Eset's tongue beats about the foreign pronunciations. “Why is he a threat to the people of Muat-riya?”

Ah, Eira murmured, her brown eyes flicking to the floor before lifting to meet the amber gaze. The monster has killed and made meals of many, she continued, her voice quivering with emotion, Including my boy.

As she spoke hot tears trickled down her cheeks, tracing a path of despair down the stone-colored fur. Anger and pain bore down on her, causing her paw to clench and unclench in helpless fury. My baby, Juno, was but a yearling and very ill. He... he was not able to defend himself. I was too late to save him. Her voice broke, and Eira dissolved into sobs, her shoulders shaking with grief. I apologize, please give me a moment.

“Gods,” the ground under foot begins to sway.

Her breath catches, nearly croaking, lips agape in disgusted shock. Vomit burns her throat but she swallows it down and tears her eyes away from the woman’s defeated cries.

“I’m so sorry, Eira. No mother should be made to live through that.” And none would again- what reason would she have to invent such a story?

Heat rages through Eset’s chest in response to her anger. If it was true, she could not let that monster inhabit their halls.

A reach through the space between them, a paltry lift of a paw in silence as the grieving mother collects her tears. “Eira,” she speaks gently and only once the woman’s sobs have quieted to steadier breaths, “you believe he has fled here, to the desert?”

I am sorry, the woman repeated, her voice trembling as she sniffled and dragged her wrist across her eye. She gratefully accepted the extended paw, drawing relief from the comforting gesture. Yes, the desert, yes, she breathed, attempting to steady herself against a second wave of tears. It has a very unique appearance, you would know if you had seen it. Every spirit has a tell, and this one has the most unsettling eyes. It is as if they were washed over by the moon, Eira explained, a shudder running up her spine.

I... I'm sure you understand I cannot afford to let him escape. Please, try to recall anything you might have seen.

The burn of Eira’s hurt is felt through her hand and the hebsut’s eyes fight their own glaze. Her brows harden as she absorbs what’s been said.

‘It’, she calls him. Subhuman. Eset could not condemn her for it.

“I will,” and for a moment they sit in digesting silence. Then the coywolf calls a fellahin for attendance and gently supports the lady to stand.

“I am sure it has been a tiresome journey for you, Lady Eira. Muat-riya welcomes you to rest in one of our guest rooms if you would like.”

Disappointment settled across her face like a shadow. So, this was not the place. Thank you, Miss Eset, but I am afraid I must decline your kind offer. I could not possibly impose upon your hospitality any longer, and besides, my friends will be worried if I do not return, Eira replied, rising with a sigh and turning to make her reluctant departure from the cool chamber.

It was last seen traveling with a diplomatic party from the desert. Our scouts have informed me that there is another group to the north. If it is not here, then perhaps I might find it there, she explained.

Eira paused, her heart pulling her back to the young leader. Turning, she gently took Eset's paw once more. Please, do take care. Thank you so much for your help today. Once I have found the beast, I will send a courier to you, so that you might have peace of mind, Eira promised gratefully.

“It is no imposition, Lady Eira. In fact, the rest may give me time to remember all who have crossed our borders this season. As far as I am aware, there are only a few settlements here in the lowlands, Lady Eira, and none so established as our palace. We take in many visitors from off the desert, as you can imagine,” the hebsut explains, pausing the woman in her stride.

“Please, stay. Bathe and eat and rest your paws. The desert is much kinder to travelers in the morning.”

Are you certain? The little woman considered for a moment, casting a glance toward the room's exit. I, she faltered, I am not sure that would be a good idea, Miss Eset. My friend, Herod, has been helping me in my search. He is another of the monster's victims, you see, and is waiting for me back at camp. I fear he would be mighty worried if I did not return.

But, if there is a chance you have seen it, she continued softly, looking torn.

I'll stay for tonight, but I am afraid I really must go first thing in the morning.

There was the name. She’d been expecting it, but her chest tightens all the same to hear it uttered aloud. She nods courteously, sets her lips with a pleasant smile, performs in the impartial ways she always has.

But inside she panics. Forces crisscross through her stomach. She thinks of the people here, of Akashingo. Of her baby. This was not a game of senet.

Eira is escorted to the bathing pools, lathered with oils, and brought medicinal herbs for dry lungs. Then Eset steps out onto the sun bathed foothills and visualizes the way things could go.

This was not a game of senet- but she could still win.