Lion Head Mesa Thlípsi

tamar did not like the excess of akashingo. there was a war to come and there was nothing about pharaoh implying worry or care.

she had not been able to sleep. tamar had departed before dawn and had not returned. she wished to be wakened before the flowers.

the chill had killed most all of them. she found a soft peach petal left from a last bloom, and a shred of blue. the maidservant intended to take them to satsu as potential wedding colors. the feast would be so late in the season, perhaps it might be a winter celebration.

tamar was aware that she could simply leave the mesa, that she could walk into the lengths of red earth and be replaced. and yet she did not. it mattered less to her that she was here.

she slept in the afternoon, more late than she had intended. flying awake with a gasp and a hurried word, she rolled to her feet and ran for the mesa. where arsenio was, of course. tamar was flecked in soil and stained with bits of blossom and grass, tangled and panting and only just remembering that she had forgotten her flowers.

tamar glared at the man as if it was his fault as she stalked by him.