Lion Head Mesa Crows will hang pine boughs at your window,

Raimo.

She had heard the names in the hall and while at first she may not have placed him, he seemed familiar now in a healthier state. There was temptation to shove her way under his form.

But he did not draw nearer from his post.

She would not either, only shoved herself against the earth.

Next was the pharaoh himself. Hot tears and grief. The smell of Akashingo clung to him. The last scent that had been Maegi's before the scent of death had become hers. Now it was Jakoul's, woven into clumps of her dark fur.

She could not speak, but she scooched forward along the ground. Submissive and horribly grief ridden. A low whine of apology.