Lion Head Mesa And scratch the slate

She couldn't grasp the concept. She supposed everyone had their place, and if this was Akashingo's culture. . .she would not say no. Her eyes closed again, relaxing against the touch of this fellahin. Slowly, as he worked, her fur gleamed its true moonlight silver.

Did you choose to be a fellahin? Maegi asked, but her voice was barely audible, the words slightly slurred. Or was it. . .chosen for you?

She had almost said 'forced upon you,' but that seemed extreme. Besides, she didn't want to call into question the rituals of a place that had so graciously taken her in. She would make it worth their while in time, she thought. Didn't know how, but she'd think of it in time.

Right after the nap that would surely follow this bath. . .she was drifting, eyelids drooping.