Lion Head Mesa The harder you pull, the tighter the rope.

She didn't hear the conversation happening beyond the limits of her existence, and wouldn't know that Tavina was there, or the little dog man, even if they were to come across the hideaway that Jawahir had stashed both herself and her brother in to.

There was a scratching sound - of little feet on stone - which almost caught in the curl of her ears. It was more the smell that drew her towards her brother; it was like the sharp smelling foods that their mother sometimes ate. Even with her pugged nose the smell was strong enough to draw her focus.

Nazli was only a potato at the moment. Her body was weak, no bigger than the rats that fed upon her brother's face, and she was as coordinated as one too, so it took time for her to writhe to his aid, only to be set upon herself by a lingering rat.

It nibbled greedily at the bridge of her nose and the sensation made her squeal loudly enough for her albeit pathetic voice to rebound throughout the catacombs, like some kind of trapped bird.