Lion Head Mesa Stones

While she searched for moss in the shallows, he asked her name. Lilitu, she responded with a smile, finally nosing out some greenery in a place where the sun shone brightest. Moss bloomed there; she knew that, at least. Wriggling it free, she carried it to him and began to layer it over his cut, gently so as not to hurt him too much.

It'll cling to you, Lilitu explained—or, at least, she hoped it would. And your name. . .?

She felt bad. She ought to know the Pharaoh's kids, and she had some idea, but she didn't want to get it wrong. She'd rather hear it from him. She finished plastering the cut and stepped back, grinning. That's better, she remarked. Now rest for a little bit. It'll help stop the bleeding and the cut will begin to heal.

She sat down beside him. I'm sorry about your mom, she said, voice filled with sympathy. I lost my mom, too. It sucks.