Ankyra Sound the cask of amontillado

with things more or less settled on the Rise—Tulimaq and Prophet wielding great authority, but still subordinate to her—and their numbers fairly stable, Avicus gives a brief message to her co-leaders before leaving her land for the first time in. . .what? a moon?

it's been a while, and she relishes picking through the Tangle, taking in the new scenery. all the while, she's conscious of the way her body moves—the way her body has always moved.

Tulimaq's touch has not yet brought the stirring within her belly. no children to come. she must try again.

perhaps Prophet. . .

she shakes all thoughts away to focus on the present, physical moment as she reaches the edge of the sound. she slips through narrow, rocky passages, nostrils flared, constantly scenting. traces, perhaps, of the white woman. she'd know her smell anywhere, after all.

but Nyra has not been here for a while. 

Avicus knows this is good—her army is not yet ready. but disappointment nonetheless purls in her chest as she reaches the beach, having found nothing, no one. not a single soul; not a single Saint.

will she ever taste that marrow-rich revenge?