Sun Mote Copse tophet

The air was redolent with the promise of children. Three of their number were pregnant, the thought of which spurred Ragna to double down upon their borders. She feared that the delicate state of the women would render them weak, which only meant that she had to be stronger. That night she did not prowl the borders, though. Instead she lay curled in her den, a small hollow in a thick forsythia bush, and listened to the settling of the snow. She roused herself when she heard footsteps, and slithered out of her den in time to catch sight of Eshamun. Ekar-aji, she said, voice carrying in the night. Eshamun looked beautiful as she ever did, her copper fur rendered unearthly by the soft light of the moon.