Qeya River the moon pleaded: stay

A butterfly.

Squashed beneath a puppy's paw and Sakhmet held her breath. Prepared for a cry, prepared for anything that might hint at her son's upset.

Instead, he was distracted. Carried away on childish whims to the next thing that shuffled about in the grasses. There is relief more than anything else. She was not sure he could be consoled on a thing that they have not even discussed yet.

Death.

She shoved the one-word thought aside in favor of nosing his rump, encouraging him to once more go for an insect. This time a cricket, strumming its summer song with its legs. An unknown temptation for children. Only briefly did she cast a look over her shoulder. The form of Malrok not very far, undoubtedly examining the things his brother left in his wake.