Lion Head Mesa opening of the mouth

It felt wrong to be here, not knowing the one that had passed.

Mouseberry lurked on the outskirts of it all. She had noted the gathering, mostly comprised of Runners. This was the nearest she had been to so many at once, and it was apparent that she was prepared to flee if need be. It was again for Jawahir that she lingered at all.

But from afar, she observed the woman she was meant to attend. Intimidating, as all Great Ones were. Mouseberry noted the sadness on her features, unaware that it was a facade; she wondered at it, though, and marveled at the thought that any Great One would mourn them. Pharaoh was at her side.

It was a Runner who had passed. And yet, two Great Ones were a part of this affair.

For the first time, Mouseberry drew a little nearer, meek, quiet, and somber. It was a sad day, Mouseberry knew, but it was not Maggie Mouseberry mourned. It was all of their sort, Runners in this world, she had seen killed... but had never time to stop, to think, to do anything but run. To stop would have meant she met the same fate as they.

Stopping was burdensome, Mouseberry thought then, as she felt the weight of those things. These thoughts caused her limbs to quake and her eyes to squint fiercely at the pale body of the stranger, but she gnashed her jaws so as to shed no tears, to sound no sobs.

What pain was greater, she wondered? Between body, and heart?