Lion Head Mesa i ne’er was struck before that hour

relmyna
a three-syllable word for self, but not that of her birth. however, that was knowledge she dared not attempt reclaim, for any try resulted in spikes of pain through her skull. oft they lasted hours or even into the following day. and so she could not remember what her natal title had been. it mattered not. the downcast head of the she-wolf before her surprised the woman, ensnared her with sorrow.
perhaps an echo of the frustrations she had felt during the time when she could not speak.
clearing her throat audibly, the priestess waited until shisu had lifted her head again. no need for apologies, she mouthed slowly. it is good to be able to speak again. and here a shy and wan smile curved her lips.